A Rush of Blood to the Head
by Bre-dust2dust34
Summary: Summary: Marriage, curses, demons, oh my! Buffy and Dean wake up together in Las Vegas with more than a few problems on their plate. Rewrite of What Happens in Vegas Series. Adult Content.
1. Prologue

A Rush of Blood to the Head

By Bre

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Rating: M/FR21  
Author's Notes: As promised, here is the beginning of the rewrite of the What Happens in Vegas Series. Albeit going down a much different road and with a much different premise. I was going to wait until more was written but I didn't want to be a jerkwad and promise to post and not post! Haha.  
Author's Notes 2: I just got done reading the terribly fun "A Real Kind of Something" by Angellia and the Prologue idea is inspired by hers. It's also there so you know there's more to this story than smut. :P  
Timeline: Four years post S7 of Buffy and early S2 of Supernatural.  
Feedback: Always appreciated! :)

Summary: Marriage, curses, demons, oh my! Buffy and Dean wake up together in Las Vegas with more than a few problems on their plate. (Rewrite of What Happens in Vegas Series.)

* * *

**Prologue**

"Sam, no!"

"Think of the power... coursing through her veins..." the voice hissed in his ear. "Think of what you could be capable of, Sammy!"

He blinked rapidly against the words, feeling them slip around his neck and through his body like silk. It was speaking to him... calling him... enticing him.

"Think of the people you could save, the good you could do..."

And all he saw was Her.

"Yes, listen to her blood, my boy... It calls to you, doesn't it? It _wants _you to take it. It _wants _you to kill her. The demon within the Slayer - the original Slayer..."

All he felt was her heartbeat, flowing through the air to him - the power that was held within that one body. He wanted to fight it, knew he should fight it, but it felt so good, so right...

And the thought of her heart beating in his hand was...

Salivating.

His hand clenched the empty air as he raised it. The air around them got colder within the tiny church, the energy coming from all four within its walls enough to crush the stone that held it together. He could see the two standing before him, fighting to get free, to get the other free... he heard his brother saying something, his hands around her, but suddenly none of it mattered.

Nothing but her.

"Dean, get out of here!" he heard her scream faintly but it barely pierced his thoughts.

"No! Sam, stop it!"

"Yes, Sam, by all means..." the voice whispered, a jovial lilt to it. "Do stop this madness..."

"Sammy!"

"You know if they stay together, he will die, don't you, Sammy? She will kill him... that power inside her, only you can harness it, only you can stop her..."

"Dean, go!" She shoved his brother out of the way and suddenly he snapped. With barely a tug inside his mind, he twisted his hand in the air and she was flying through it and into a wall. He heard something crack inside her as she collided with the harsh stone and his brother screaming in the background but all he saw was red. Blood, everywhere... his blood if he didn't act.

"Do it..."

"Dean!"

Suddenly he was in front of her and he snarled, the heat inside his mind getting red hot as he focused on her chest. She fought to move against him, fought to fight him, but his mind's hold on her was too strong as he once again lifted his hand, his fist shaking before moving to force it through her chest. For her heart. For his brother. To save the world from her evil.

Only it wasn't her chest he hit.

Too fast for anyone to see, he was there, in front of him, shielding her and his arm shoved through his chest plate with too much force, his fingers spreading of their own will inside him as blood erupted from the new hole, flowing down, staining his skin. He could feel his heart, feel his bones, feel his lungs as Dean's body collapsed against Buffy's where she hung on the wall. He could see her mouth open, imagine her screams as she fought to save his brother but he heard none of it.

Dean looked into his eyes, his black, soulless eyes, a trickle of blood falling from his mouth as he whispered, his voice laced with pain, betrayal, guilt... "Sammy."

And then he fell.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_Three Months Earlier_

It had been a damn long time since Dean Winchester had slept in such a damn comfortable bed. The sheets were silky smooth, that high-thread count crap, and the mattress was soft and comfy, making him feel like he was sleeping his ass in a cocoon of warmth, coziness and everything sweet and nice...

Which begged the question of where the hell was he...

Cracking an eye open, Dean slowly pulled himself up, propping himself on an elbow as he craned his neck to look around followed quickly by a loud, angry groan. Christ, how much did he drink last night? His head was thundering like friggin' Thor was slamming his stupid hammer against his skull.

Rubbing his eyes, Dean shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the room.

It was still pitch black outside and he could barely make out the shadows of the room but it was enough to know that he was in a nice place. A nice hotel, a damn nice hotel. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the dark form of the woman whose bed he laid in and he smirked at himself.

Nice.

Across from the bed was a large, picture window, the curtains drawn back and he could see the 24/7 active lights of Las Vegas, the dull light of the sun starting to rise in the far distance, the rays barely peeping over the hills. Squinting against the harshness of the flashing lights compared to the sight of his closed eyelids, Dean fell back on the bed, rubbing his forehead.

Right, what had happened last night? He remembered they had arrived yesterday morning, hot on the trail of news of demon activity. The minute Sam had mentioned Las Vegas, Dean had immediately said that was where they needed to go. Get some demon action, kick a little evil ass, do some gambling, see some strippers and get his sex on? The perfect trip before heading back out on the road again.

Like a mini vacation.

So where was Sam? And again, where was he? Looking back towards the window, he couldn't make out very much from this height. He could have been in the Luxor. Or the Bellagio. Or one of the other upper crest hotels that normally kicked his ass to the curb. Which is exactly where they had checked in upon arrival and which is where Sam probably was.

Dean suddenly grinned at the memory of ditching his brother to check out a strip club on the Strip after Sammy gave him bitchface. Oh yeah, good times... So where had he ended up? Had he gone home with a stripper? Home? This was home?

Not likely but okay.

Dean blinked as he realized he didn't really remember very much past the strip club at all. A few flashes hit him, bright red lights, a lot of hair in his face, Elvis giving him the 'do it' grin... Oh yeah, he was in Las Vegas alright.

Stretching his legs, he felt the smooth sheets rubbing him deliciously all across his naked body and he licked his lips, nodding to himself in satisfaction when he felt his bed mate turning over in her spot of the bed. Dean's head snapped to where she laid as she turned, her face lost in the shadow of the dark room as she found him.

Dean laid still, wondering what she was going to do - he had had everything from a slap to the face to a surprise morning trip downstairs - when the woman snuggled her face into his shoulder, her arm snaking across his bare chest. Dean responded without thinking, lifting his arm as she pushed herself closer to him, shoving her face into the crook of his neck as she let out a sleepy sigh.

"Great," he mumbled to himself, rolling his eyes which only made his head hurt worse, his vision feeling wobbly still. The sleeping woman settled, her body going limp as she slipped back into whatever dream world she had been in. Dean took a deep breath, her arm rising with his lungs where it laid across his heart.

And now he was stuck.

Well, probably not stuck. He could easily just toss her over, give her a little, "Hey, it was fun," before finding his pants and getting the hell out of there. But this bed... these sheets... this woman... it all felt way too nice right at that moment to say no. Sleep beckoned as he closed his eyes, his head telling him to stop all this thinking business.

Resigning himself to his horrible fate, Dean turned his head into the crown of her head, her hair tickling his nose as he took a soft breath.

It felt... nice, laying here with her. Nice in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. It helped that she smelled utterly amazing, like vanilla and a summer breeze combined into one - whatever the hell that meant, she just smelled sweet and comforting and... nice. She felt very nice.

Brining his hand up where she laid on his arm, Dean ran his hand down her hair, down her back and he felt her body respond with a shiver, her face digging a little deeper into the crook of his neck. Closing his eyes, Dean let himself slip away for just a moment... remember someone else, someone old and someone whom he hadn't seen in such a long time.

The woman in his arms and the woman in his memories even smelled the same, what a wonderful happenstance this was turning into. It was also giving Dean a few more pieces into how he had managed to end up here, sleeping in a stranger's bed when he had taken to just getting up when the deed was done and escaping this part... she had obviously reminded him of Her.

Dean immediately shut down any thoughts down that memory lane as his hand continued its exploration, tangling in her long hair, feeling her soft skin on what felt like a sexy, tight little body. Biting his lip, Dean raised an eyebrow as his body responded to his own touch on her, felt the goose bumps rising on her skin as she pressed her chest - her very naked chest, Dean realized with a little happy start - harder against him.

When his hand reached the gentle curve of one ass cheek, he brought up his other hand, finding her chin and lifting her face to his. What the hell, Sam was safe and sound, he was safe and sound and more than willing to get another round of Happy Endings with what felt like the perfect woman without all the goddamn dramatic strings attached.

Rubbing his thumb across her cheek, Dean angled his head down and pressed his lips gently against her, gently enough to wake her if she responded and gently enough to slip out if she didn't. He didn't bother to acknowledge the little flag of warning that suddenly flared in the back of his head when she mewled against his lips, the sound so familiar but what were the honest chances?

Very, very unlikely.

Christ, so unlikely he actually laughed a little.

And he sure as shit was not going to say no to a little sheet tumble with a woman who was turning into a nice little replica of Her. A taste, a glimpse, a thought and he could be back to that time... if just for a split second, enough for his mind to do the imagining...

She pulled him from his thoughts as her hand snuck up his chest, her nails dragging across his skin before finding the back of his neck and pulling him in closer. Dean responded just as eagerly, pushing his tongue into her mouth when she let him, her own meeting his just as forcefully. He inhaled quickly, pulling her closer and he felt her nails dig into the base of his scalp, sending chills down his spine.

Oh, hell yes...

He felt her pulling him, pulling him closer as she tugged and Dean took the hint, rolling over on top of her, pushing the sheet away. She opened her legs and Dean settled right where the doorway to heaven usually rested, instantly pushing himself against her wet, hot heat. Dean approved whole-heartedly as he rubbed himself against her, groaning.

She broke the kiss and Dean barely waited for preamble as he started kissing her down along her jaw, rubbing his face against hers and she let out a little breathy moan at the sensation and Dean realized he hadn't shaved in a while. Well, who the hell cared, she was acting like it turned her on like nothing other. Where other woman pushed him away enough to escape it, this one seemed was preening against him like a cat in heat.

Oh, yes, the pieces were definitely coming together about why he had stuck around with this one.

Her fingers were insistent in his hair and he felt her fingers turn into a fist, gripping his strands painfully and Dean growled in response, pushing the head of his cock against her opening, nipping at the delicate skin of her neck. She bared herself, pushing her legs higher as she moved her hips against him and he felt all his blood rushing away from anything necessary and straight to where he wanted to be.

Thrusting into her, he grit his teeth at the delicious warmth encasing him and she arched her back, letting out a sharp yell, her legs wrapping around him as his lips wrapped around her scar. The warning bells in the back of his head suddenly wanted to grow louder but he ignored them with the help of her welcoming body and his whiskey-soaked brain as he pushed himself onto his elbows for leverage, pulling out and slamming back into her with enough force to hurt. He didn't even pause to wonder if he should be worried about hurting her, that he was being too rough but she did nothing but urge him on, her arms wrapping around his neck, her nails digging into shoulders as she pushed her breasts into him.

"Oh, god," she breathed against his shoulder, the action so familiar but Dean barely got a chance to react before she tugged his head down, her lips finding his and then nothing else mattered but the heat between her legs, her arms pulling him closer, her hips rising to meet his.

The room was still dark when Dean broke the kiss, fighting for breath. He pulled away, wanting to get a glimpse of her face but the shadows were too deep as the rising sun seemed to suck all the surrounding light towards it. He caught a slightly hooked nose, her little mouth open and for a moment he wondered if he was seeing things as she mewled underneath him before she pulled his head back down towards hers, her lips finding his. He forgot how to think when she nipped at his lips and he returned the favor, causing her to shiver.

The room started lightening as the sun rose quickly, creating a range hue around them as their pace grew quicker. He felt his awareness of the room slipping away, the woman meeting him thrust for thrust, her breaths and gasps becoming more insistent. Dean buried his face into her neck, one hand gripping the pillow next to her head, the other digging into her hip when she suddenly released, letting out a breathy, choked moan, her hands gripping his shoulders painfully, her hips bucking against him in time with her orgasm.

Dean screwed his eyes shut, his hips getting faster and he felt her widening them and he went deeper, deeper, just enough to push him over the edge and with his own breathy little shout, he came, his hips slapping against hers, her legs tightening for a moment before they both fell limp.

For a split second, Dean didn't want to move.

He was breathing heavily where he had fallen on top of her, her arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders. He felt her nails dragging lightly across his back and he shivered a little. It all felt too good, too familiar to be real and then he reminded himself just where exactly he was and he lifted himself off of her, slipping out without warning and flopping onto his side of the bed.

Eyes still closed, he let out a satisfied moan, ignoring the rush in his chest. He smiled.

"Now that..." he said, licking his lips. Suddenly he felt the bed move as she jumped and then the sheets were snatched away from him and Dean's eyes snapped open, turning to see what the hell was going on - likely he was about to get kicked out of bed.

But when he saw her - actually _saw_ her - his heart stopped and he suddenly forgot he needed to breath as the rising sun rested on her face.

"Buffy?"

* * *

Buffy Summers felt like someone had taken a gigantic shovel and scooped up her insides and ran away with them. Her heart was thundering against her chest plate, her brain had decided to stop working. She couldn't remember how to breathe much, her mouth dry as she stared at none other than Dean Winchester.

She let out a little gaspy squeak as she met his eyes, the last few minutes coming back with a vengeful rush, the pleasant ache between her legs, the slick juices on her inner thigh, her body hot and relaxed and ready for more... and there he was, all naked and...

"Oh, my god," she breathed, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she started breathing too quickly. "Oh, my god."

"Uh..." Dean started, slowly moving into a sitting position. He licked his lips and Buffy stared at him, his flushed cheeks, his mussed hair. God, how long had it been since she had seen him like this? Since she had seen him at all? Two years?

And what in the crazy ass hell had they just been doing?

"Hey," was all he said, giving her a little wave as he grabbed the comforter to cover himself. Buffy tugged the sheet closer to her, covering as much of her body as she could and she didn't miss the little frown on his face.

"What?" she asked dumbly.

Dean looked around the room, the sun suddenly too bright as it began to dominate the sky. He found himself shrugging. "Uh..."

"What..." Buffy started before gesturing at the bed. She pulled her feet closer to her chest and she felt her heel slide through a little wet spot. Oh, sweet god... "What was that?"

"That... that was sex," he replied, his face showing some of the cocky smartassness she remembered so well and Buffy instantly felt her body responding, her eyes narrowing at him.

"Wow, thanks," she said sarcastically. Pulling the sheet closer and rubbing her heel extra hard in a dry spot on the bed, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, leaping off of it. She stumbled slightly and looked down to see her foot had caught in a pair of jeans that were definitely not hers.

Oh, god.

Humiliation and shame swept through her as she clenched her fists. She could feel the hot burn of tears in the back of her throat but she forced them down, blinking quickly as she turned to head into the bathroom.

To fucking hide.

"Whoa, whoa," Dean said, grabbing the comforter and wrapping it around his waist the best he could. He felt the remnants of their sexy times rubbing off on it as he followed her around the bed. "Cool your jets there, Summers."

"Cool my jets?" Buffy repeated incredulously, turning around and staring at him. He paused a few feet away from her, his free hand coming up to defend himself when he saw the white hot anger in her eyes. Okay, that look? That look he remembered all too well. "Why exactly should I not be freaking out right now?"

"Well..." He shrugged again. "Because it happens."

"It happens?" Buffy repeated again, taking a step towards him. Dean leaned back slightly, his hand still up as his face got serious. "That," Buffy said, pointing to the bed, "That doesn't just happen. Not to us!"

"Jeez, what's your problem? It's not like we haven't done 'that' a hundred times before..." Dean raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her response, knowing he was right when she suddenly reeled back and punched him straight in the jaw. Dean stumbled back, his hand flying to his face as he tripped on the comforter and fell on his ass.

"Son of a bitch!" he growled loudly, his legs tangling in the stupid blanket as he fought to stand. "What the hell was that for?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "That was for all your stupid crap, that's what that was for. And for making me sleep with you! And for... being a... freaking jerk." Dean stared at her from his spot on the floor as she suddenly whirled around and headed towards the bathroom again.

"I don't think so," Dean said as he leapt to his feet, dragging the comforter still held tight around his waist and he caught up with her, grabbing her elbow. She spun, her jaw clenched visibly as she glared at him. "You can't just punch and run, sweetheart."

"Let go of me," Buffy replied and Dean smirked down at her.

"Make me."

Buffy stared at him, ignoring her body's reaction to his close proximity, ignoring how easy it would be for both of them to lose the bed sheets and revisit the past. How easy it would be to both punch him and kiss him all over again. Just like old times... She glanced at his jaw, watched the welt on it turning into a deeper red, the skin already raised. She knew she should have been worried when she felt pleasure at the sight but she didn't care.

Good. He hurt her, she can hurt him.

"Considering who you're talking to, that's kind of a dumb thing to say."

Dean's smirk didn't go away as his grip on her elbow grew tighter and he pulled her closer, her arm pressing against his bare chest. "You wouldn't."

"Don't tempt me," Buffy replied before jerking her arm free and shoving him away, causing him to stumble back again. He glowered at her as he took the extra steps back towards her. Goddamn Slayer strength and her goddamn superiority complex. "It wouldn't be the first time I wiped the floor with your ass."

"Oh, that's hilarious," Dean replied and he watched Buffy switch hands, her left now the one holding the sheets to her chest as she curled her right into a fist. But he didn't see the fist. Instead, he saw something else.

Something shiny. Something gold. And something on her finger. He felt the hilarity of the situation drain from his face as he stared at her hand - it was actually pretty damn ridiculous that out of all the skirts floating around, begging for his hand up them, he had once again found Buffy friggin' Summers - the one woman in his entire life he had let wipe the floor with his willing body and Christ, did he pay for that one year mistake...

But none of that mattered as he stared at her ring finger.

She had a wedding ring. She was wearing a goddamn wedding ring.

Dean bit his tongue, feeling like someone had sucker punched him in the gut. She was married. She wasn't... his anymore. She had never been his. And she had never known that he had once upon a time thought about being the one to put a ring on her finger, even if it happened to be made of tinfoil. She didn't know that she had been the only person to give him hope about a future that didn't involve ganking evil things day in and day out, living on the road without her. That she had been the one to make him think of things that he had never let himself dream about before.

It was almost like he had been playing the part of a horny, sixteen year old girl who wanted to marry the longest relationship of her young little life and live happily ever after where roses grew out of your ass and rainbows appeared out of thin air with creepy leprechauns running around...

Despite the firecracker relationship they had had... he had hoped. He had... really, really liked her. And now she was gone.

He sneered a little, waving at her hand and Buffy rolled her eyes. "What?"

"You coulda at least told me," he said, his voice tight and Buffy frowned at him.

"What are you talking about?" she asked and Dean once again waved at her, indicating something and she held out her arm in exasperation. "Spit it out, Winchester."

"So where is he?" Dean continued. "Where's your new hubby?"

"What? Hubby?" Dean stared at her expectantly, his face shuttered, his eyes darkening and Buffy cocked her head. "What are you talking about?"

"Jesus Christ, Buffy, the goddamn ring on your goddamn finger."

Buffy let out a chuckle as she lifted her hand, pulling the sheet up with her other. "Well, you're clearly still drunk because I..." And then her voice faded. She was wearing a gold band on her left hand. On her left hand ring finger. Buffy felt her stomach bottom out as she stared at it, the rising sun glinting off the metal and for a split second, she wondered if she was dreaming. "I..."

Buffy's eyes ticked to Dean where he watched her, his face purposefully empty. She shook her head. "Dean, I'm not married."

"Hell, you coulda fooled me," Dean snapped back before turning away. He didn't notice Buffy staring at his own left hand as he moved to grab his pants. She watched him as he dropped the comforter, her eyes following his every movement as he slipped his boxers out, putting them on before shrugging into his jeans. He turned to look at her as he buttoned them up, leaving his belt hanging. "Man, you haven't changed a damn bit, have you? All these little games, all this stupid crap."

Buffy was just staring at his hand, her face pale, her mouth open. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Hello, hey..." he said, waving his hands. "Slinging insults here."

Buffy just shook her head, blinking at him before moving to stare at her hand again. She looked so entirely distraught that Dean almost felt bad and thought about giving her a hug. But they didn't do that anymore. And he sure as hell did not do that with married women, for the love of all the gods in the goddamn sky...

"Fine, whatever," he said dryly. He turned in a circle. "Where's my gun and I'll get the hell out of your hair."

"Dean..." she said, her voice soft and Dean turned to look at her. But she wouldn't meet his eye and he shook his head at her.

"What?"

Buffy opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out for a second. "I think..." She looked down at his hand, his left hand and Dean rolled his eyes, bringing his up to show her he sure as hell did not have a matching ring on his finger... when he saw the matching ring on his finger. He was pretty sure he felt his stomach slam into the floor as he stared at the gold band, the sun making it look like it was on fire, the light burning his eyes but he couldn't look away.

And then he turned to Buffy before looking at the ring again and then he repeated the motion before snapping, "What the hell is this?"

Buffy shrugged, her eyes open wide and Dean took in a frantic breath before turning in a circle. He took a few steps towards her before rethinking and turning back around. He heard her say his name once more and he turned to face her, cutting off her words, "What... Buffy?"

Buffy shook her head at him and Dean's eyes got wide as he ran his fingers through his hair, turning away. Buffy stared at his back, taking a few steps closer to him as he once again brought his hand up in front of his face. And then he whirled back to face her, making her jump.

"Are we fucking married?" he thundered, his voice frantic as she stared at her, waiting for a response. Waiting to hear that hell no, they weren't married! Because that would be the most preposterous thing in the entire world - Dean Winchester? Married? To Buffy Summers, Slayer Bitch?

Hell would freeze over before he visited that crazy again.

Suddenly Dean let out a chuckle, almost relieved, as his mind raced through every possible avenue. There was no way he could have gotten married, absolutely no way. He had never - ever - been that desperate and he knew more than enough buttons to push on Buffy's hot little body to get her to melt like putty in his hands so if getting laid had been an issue... there was no obstacle.

"Oh, man," he breathed, leaning over for a second, his hand over his stomach as he took a deep breath, relief, fear and a sudden rush of stress flowing through veins. "Goddamn, you almost got me with that one."

Buffy just stood before him, watching him, the sheet falling loose around her body. She still looked shell-shocked and Dean stood back up, giving her a cocky grin. "You little minx."

"Dean-"

Dean just shook his head, the chuckle not dying on his lips as he went to remove the ring.

But it didn't budge.

"What the hell, did you super glue it on or something?" he asked, tugging on the ring again but it didn't even twirl on his finger. "What the hell?" he asked louder, directing the question to his hand as he continued to try to get it off. "Why won't it come off?" Dean took a deep breath as he moved to pull the ring off again, straining his body but the fucking thing didn't move. "Buffy, why won't it come off?"

As if shaking herself from a haze, Buffy immediately started trying to get hers off, the sheet falling to the ground as she tried to remove her own ring. It also wasn't moving.

"What is going on?" Buffy asked, her voice tinged with desperation as she tried to remove the ring but it just wouldn't move. It was almost like an invisible force was holding it on her finger. It didn't hurt her finger when she tried to remove it but the damn thing was acting like it was indeed super glued to her skin. "What is going on?"

Dean was pretty sure that the first thing he noticed the minute the sheet dropped to the ground was how very naked she was should have been a problem. He should have been worried about the rings, worried about being married, worried about being married to _her_... but she was naked. And very... sexy as hell. He was also pretty sure she had toned up even more since he had seen her, put on a little weight in all the right places, had even tanned...

Dean licked his lips, not noticing when Buffy suddenly stepped up and grabbed his hand.

Using as much strength as her Slayer muscles could muster, she pulled on his ring. Nothing happened.

"My god," she grunted in annoyance, not noticing her hands were shaking where she held his as she examined his ring before looking at hers. "What the hell kind of rings are these? What the hell kind of rings did you buy, you jackass?"

But Dean didn't hear her. He barely felt her pulling on his hand, barely felt the need to tell her that she was actually about to rip the skin right off his bones and that she needed to knock it the hell off considering how hard she was yanking his poor hand around... but he didn't care. All he saw was Buffy. And she was naked.

And he wanted to be naked. He wanted them to be naked together.

Buffy finally looked up at him and made a face when she saw the dark lust in his eyes, noticed his normally sea-green eyes were getting murky. He was staring at her like she was a canteen of water and he had been stuck in the desert for days on end and all he wanted to do was suck on her.

"What is wrong with you?"

Dean didn't answer as he suddenly grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her against his chest, his lips finding hers in a vicious play of dominance - a very familiar game with them - as he wrapped his arm around her, his fingers digging into her waist, practically lifting her off her feet to match his height.

He didn't pause to wonder why she didn't reel back and slap the crap out of him. He should have been concerned that his normally fiery woman was actually responding just as healthily as she had in bed, both of them acting like this was another morning, another day... another awesome freaking day where they got to be naked together.

Nothing else mattered but the sensation of his arms around her, his lips insistent against hers, the same delicious insistence that she had craved when they had been together... the same thing that had inevitably led to the demolition of said relationship. Which meant she shouldn't be doing this.

That it was bad. It was bad that Buffy kissed him back with as much fervor as he gave, that she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him pull her up as she hitched a leg up on his thigh, using his loose jeans as an anchor. Which only made them slide lower, almost off and she could already feel him poking through.

Very, very bad.

So bad she should stop.

But it only made it that much more delicious, especially when Dean whirled around, his hand groping the air until he found a wall and shoved her up against it. She felt her head hit, her back protesting. She felt his fingers digging too hard into her ribs as he jerked her up, sliding her up the wall and she wrapped her legs around his hips, their lips never parting.

"Oh, god, Dean," she gasped against him and he moaned in agreement and Buffy wondered in the back of her mind why she was felt like she was looking through a red fog where the only thing that mattered was Dean touching her. And it felt so amazing, so right, so perfect, so...

Almost like someone had slapped the back of his head, Dean jerked back with a surprised gasp, licking his lips as he stared into her eyes. His body moved on its own accord, knowing exactly what to do to get exactly where he wanted to be as he rubbed against her, her juices soaking his jeans before he realized what he was doing.

Buffy against a wall. He was going to do Buffy against a wall.

"Whoa," he said, pulling farther away before stepping back. He held onto her long enough for her to find her legs before he removed his hands from her waist. Forcefully. All he really wanted to do was put his hands right back there, almost like something was pulling him in, reeling him in. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

Buffy panted, leaning against the wall. A piece of hair fell into her face and she blew it away, feeling it tickle her nose as Dean put more space between them. She swallowed hard as the foggy haze dissipated and the room came back to her.

She felt her body starting to blush crimson when she watched Dean's eyes trail down her naked body and she just stood there, stuck in a limbo - one part of her, the sane part, wanted to rush over and dive back into her sheet while the other wanted to climb him like a damn tree.

Not good.

Dean, realizing the same thing, shook himself out of his stare, seeing the sheet at his feet. He picked it up and tossed it to her where Buffy gratefully plastered it to her body.

"Okay..." she started, her voice shaky and she swallowed again... awkward silence followed.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. There's something wrong."

"Very wrong. Like... curse wrong."

Dean snapped his fingers. "Yes," he said, pointing at her. "Curse wrong. This is very curse wrong."

"I mean," Buffy said, waving her hand at him, "That wasn't normal."

"No," Dean agreed. "Definitely not. Very not normal. Abnormal."

Awkward...

"We should..." Buffy started, nodding her head far too frequently as she fought for her words. Like a light bulb going off in her head, she pointed at her wedding ring. "We should talk to someone."

"I was thinking the same thing," Dean replied genially. He nodded just as much before frowning at himself. "Yeah, I'm gonna..." He pointed towards the door to her hotel room, across a large expanse of floor and living room furniture and seriously, who the hell needed all this crap in a friggin' hotel room? These places looked like mini-apartments.

"Me too," Buffy said, nodding. She waved her hand at him again but didn't say anything. Dean nodded and neither moved. A pregnant pause filled the room as their eyes met once again. And suddenly that weird haze started filling Buffy's brain as she stared at him before looking at his lips... She tried to shake her head at him, tried to wave her hand at him and tell him, "Off limits," but it didn't happen.

The only thing that happened was Dean was suddenly before her, pushing her into the wall, the sheet falling to the ground as their lips found each other again.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Holy update! This is a big one and I didn't want to cut it in half or anything because it would drag it out... we'll get more plot bunnies in the next installment for those reading this as the rewrite. Thank you for the awesome reviews! :D

**Chapter Two**

Faith Lehane had never wondered what this felt like.

She had never had any reason to even care what the hell people thought about her, much less the crap they felt when she did her thing like pick up a trunk of a dude and head back to his place for a little round of Freaky Deaky.

But right now? She felt pretty pissed the hell off as she hit redial on her cell, bringing the phone back up to her ear. It immediately went to voicemail again, Buffy's annoyingly bright voice informing her that she was unable to get to the phone at the moment...

"Goddamn, B," she muttered under her breath.

She didn't miss that she herself had a new missed call and a new voicemail from Lunatic Ex-Watcher back in Cleveland and she sure as hell knew that she wasn't about to listen to another message from him asking about the status of finding the missing mini-Slayer and wondering if they were okay as he hadn't heard from them and blah blah blah…

She had to at least find blondie before diving back into that pool because honestly, she didn't have anything new to say. Rather, they didn't have anything new to say because they had spent their first night in Vegas getting trashed because that's what you did in Las Vegas.

You did the crazy stuff before you did what you were there to do.

In this case, track down a missing newbie Slayer.

Faith hadn't realized at the time she had agreed to accompany her sister Slayer that she would also be on a manhunt for her ass as well.

Not exactly on her to-do list of confessions to the old man.

Last night had been fun, seeing Buffy cut loose like she had. It was a side of Buffy that Faith hadn't dreamed of seeing – literally letting her hair down and just letting go. Faith had never seen her drink nearly a quarter of what Buffy ingested and when she had found her hunky little boy toy? She was lost and Faith, at the time, had thought it was hilarious and empowering, good to see her off her Slayer high horse for a night.

Especially when she got an eyeful of Buffy sucking her boy toy's face off like a damn blowfish.

But it had _not_ been fun to wake up, practically knocking the door down to Buffy's room without any answer because she hadn't seen her since she had ducked out of the bar they had found. Wasn't that Faith's freaking gig? So maybe it was a little annoying when she pulled this stuff but Jesus, she did this, not freaking Buffy. It was at least expected of her.

None of it helped that she was actually concerned about the damn woman - it only pissed her off more.

Shaking her head in annoyance, Faith ran a hand through her hair, wondering why she had put on her favored leather jacket when it was still so warm out despite the cool season, when she caught a flash of blonde out the corner of her eye.

And there was Buffy, sitting at the bar in the downstairs lounge of their hotel with a half gone Long Island in front of her, staring into her lap.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Faith said as she made her way over, dodging through the quickly growing crowds of people. She didn't even bother with asking her if she was alright. She didn't give a hot damn, she looked just fine.

Instead, Faith slapped the hell out of Buffy's shoulder, making Buffy jump a little, turning startled eyes to her. "What the hell, Buffy? Ever heard of answering your friggin' phone?"

Buffy just stared at her, her face colored with shock before she remembered and she shook her head, frowning. "Oh, god, I'm sorry. I... uh..."

Buffy blinked before turning to stare at her lap again. Faith waited for her to finish but nothing came out and she rolled her eyes, taking a stool next to her. She waved her hand at the Long Island. "Little early to get shit-faced, don't you think? Isn't it like only nine or something?"

"Is it?" Buffy replied absently as she grabbed the drink and finished it off without taking a breath. Faith raised an eyebrow at her, watching her put the glass down, her face screwed up at what was usually a massive amount of alcohol in Long Island Iced Teas.

"Alright," Faith said, throwing Buffy a smile. "I'm gonna drop the fact that you totally ditched me last night for some nookie and move on to the next topic of conversation. First, what the hell happened," she asked with a conspirator's look, before flipping up two fingers, "And two, you gotta call Giles, he's about to blow up my damn phone."

"Right..." Buffy breathed, her eyes fixed on her empty glass, very lost in her own thoughts and Faith glanced around for the absent bartender before waving a hand in front of Buffy's face.

"Earth to Buffy."

Nothing.

"Hello..."

Nada.

"Jesus, B, you drunk already? How many of those have you had?"

Buffy just shrugged, her face taking on the look of someone who had been mildly traumatized as she ran through something in her head. Faith was about to ask her if she had had a lobotomy when the bartender appeared.

"Another 'something with so much alcohol you forget everything about today?'" he asked. Faith gave him a look before shifting her eyes to Buffy who immediately responded by nodding her assent and pushing her empty glass towards him. Unfazed, the bartender smirked, turning to Faith.

"Just a Coke, bud. Little early for the hard stuff." He shrugged and turned to make Buffy another drink.

Faith didn't miss a beat as she whipped around, grabbing Buffy's shoulder and forcing her to look at her. Buffy met her eyes and Faith noticed the smudged makeup and the look of outright panic in her hazel eyes.

"Alright, now you really gotta tell me what the hell happened last night that you feel the need to get trashed all over again." Faith made a face. "Much less with a drink that's probably twenty bucks a pop here."

Buffy made a squeaky sound, her face distraught and Faith frowned at her, waiting.

"What?"

"Something bad happened," she replied absently.

"Yeah, I'm getting that..." Faith chuckled. "What, was the cute boy from last night not so cute this morning?"

"Oh, god," Buffy moaned, dropping her head with a loud, angry thud on the wood bar and Faith flinched at the sound. "Oh, god, this isn't happening."

"I'm taking that as a yes," Faith said as her Coke arrived and she took a sip. She then watched Buffy grab her fresh Long Island and take another healthy drink, her eyes screwing up at the taste.

"No," Buffy said, swallowing the alcohol. "No, no, he was... is cute. Very cute. Which is bad! All bad!"

"You know, maybe you've had a little too much drinky drinky there, B," Faith replied, reaching out to grab the glass but Buffy snatched it first, turning to face Faith who waved her hands in exasperation. "And then move on from the fact that you bunked up with a bum. It happens, so deal with it." Faith pointed at Buffy. "And then you need to call the old man because he's getting an ulcer."

"Faith, I did something bad last night," she said, shaking her head, completely ignoring every word out of Faith's mouth.

Faith shook her head at her, grinning. "Baby, it's Vegas. That's what happens here, the bad, the good and the very ugly. You got a taste of the ugly part which sucks but you'll get over it." Faith cocked her head. "Preferably now."

Buffy shook her head. "I can't. You don't understand, I..." Her eyes ticked to someone over Faith's shoulders, her eyes getting wide as she blushed. "Oh no."

"What?" Faith asked, turning to look at what she saw. Her mouth formed a little 'o' as she spotted Buffy's distraction, watched him walking towards them with determination, wearing a pair of 'fuck me' jeans and a black t-shirt. He was... definitely not a bum and definitely someone she wouldn't mind waking up next to. Definitely someone she wouldn't mind getting her own taste of Vegas with.

Faith didn't fail to notice the darkening bruise on his chin and the little sliver of hilarity she felt upon seeing it. A very interesting night for blondie indeed...

She turned back to Buffy. "Is that him?" she asked with ill-contained glee, turning for another glance as he got closer. "Shit, he's hotter than Angel. And Riley." Faith shrugged. "And Spike."

"Shut up," Buffy hissed, slapping her shoulder and Faith turned to smirk at her sister Slayer but found Buffy's eyes trained on her sex toy, her face pale and she was about to ask what really happened - especially to cause her to possibly hit said boy toy - when he stopped next to them, his eyes trained on Buffy.

"You locked me in the fucking bathroom," he spat angrily and Faith's head jerked back, her eyes flying to Buffy who instantly transformed her fear into anger. Faith blinked in amazement at her as she watched the exchange.

"Oh, please," Buffy sneered back, "Don't be such a big baby about it."

"Don't be..." He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "You locked me in there _naked_, Buffy. And then a _maid_ came in and had to let me out."

Faith snorted at the imagery, her eyes trailing down his body. Damn, she wouldn't have minded being that maid…

He turned to her when she made the noise and she was pleased to see his own reaction as he took her in. His eyes lingered for a split second longer than normal on the route everyone took when they looked at her: eyes, lips and cleavage. Faith found she wanted to lean forward and ask him to stick his face in there. Christ, he was a delicious man.

Who had slept with Buffy. And who Buffy had pissed off royally. Which was both awesomely amusing and also meant a no go... for now, at least.

"Hi," he said, his voice still taut with anger. He lifted his hand with a smile. "I'm Dean. The poor schmuck your friend here screwed and then abandoned."

Faith chuckled, gripping his hand. "Faith."

"Faith, hi, nice to meet you." He turned to glare at Buffy, looking like he wanted to grab her by both her arms and toss her over his shoulder. "If you don't mind, I'm going to take the little missus here to have a little chat…"

"Wait a minute," Faith interrupted. "Dean?" She glanced at Buffy to confirm and watched her eyes instantly get as big as they could, her face urgent as she shook her head to dissuade her but this was just too good. "Dean Winchester? That Dean?"

"Oh," Dean said with a self-satisfied smile, "You've heard of me?" He gave Buffy an indecipherable look and Faith laughed.

"Oh, yeah," she said, turning a chillier eye towards Dean. "I've heard of you. Went along the lines of 'best sex I've ever had but also the biggest asshole walking the face of the planet Earth.'"

"Well..." Dean replied, that same smile still on his face before he frowned. "Wait, what?" Dean looked at Buffy who just turned away and took a sip from her drink. "What'd you tell her?"

"She told me about how you tried to shoot Wolf Boy. Yeah..." she said when she noticed Dean's face shift. "And then how you got too cozy with some bronzed bimbo. You know, typical dickhead things to do."

"What? I never-"

"Pretty interesting," Faith continued, ignoring him, her voice dark, "How you happen to be in Vegas when we are, huh?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, turning to glare at Buffy. "My thoughts exactly," he said, directing the answer at the blonde. Buffy let out a nervous laugh as she pushed her drink away, slipping out of her chair and taking a step back.

"Well, this has been sufficiently... horrifying," she said, her voice taking on a slight hitch from the drinks she just inhaled as she turned around. "I'm gonna go... over there."

"Oh, I don't think so," Dean snapped, taking a few quick steps to catch up to her, Faith forgotten.

He grabbed her elbow, forcing her to stop and swing around into his arms but she pushed him away into an older couple walking by who made a few disgruntled noises. Dean gritted his teeth, nodding at them in apology before glaring at Buffy where she stood. She was breathing heavy, her hair falling around her in a loose mess.

Dean frowned. "You aren't going anywhere."

"I'd like to see you try and stop me," Buffy said before turning and Dean followed her. Buffy ran into another group of people, slowing her down, allowing Dean to catch her again.

"Stop it," she griped.

"No, you stop it," Dean said in return, his voice low and grating on Buffy's ears as he grabbed her elbow again, steering her away. He noticed an alcove next to the elevators, a door leading to the stairs and he guided her there, his grip on her tight, knowing she wouldn't reel around and punch him again in a hotel lobby full of people.

At least he hoped she wouldn't.

He didn't pause or think about anything but pushing Buffy through the large metal door. He didn't care that they had left her friend Faith behind. He didn't care that Buffy had obviously badmouthed him straight to hell for the last two years like the goddamn evil woman she was and he sure as hell didn't care that he probably should not be in confined spaces with her if what had happened an hour ago was any indication.

He just wanted to get her alone so he could properly yell at her and possibly remove her shirt.

But yelling was definitely at the top of the list as he remembered the fun times followed way too quickly by the not-so-fun times. He barely knew how it had happened but one second he was in the bathroom of Buffy's room, cleaning himself off and thinking about asking her to join him for a shower - because hey, they just had some seriously hot sex against the freaking wall, he figured she had cooled off enough to let him sex her up so they could talk about the whole wedding rings thing while he soaped up her breasts like the good ol' times - when the door to the bathroom suddenly slammed shut and he heard a click.

A really, really loud click which meant she had broken the goddamn lock on the door which meant he had been stuck in the bathroom. Naked. With nothing but little hand towels because the hotel maid hadn't come around yet.

Not awesome.

Buffy stumbled when Dean abruptly let her go, the door slamming shut, the sound chasing up the flights of stairs above them and he glared at her in the dim light of the stairwell.

"You can't seriously keep running away from me, Buffy. We kinda have to talk about our little _problem_," he said, waving his left hand, indicating the gold ring that was still very much on his finger. The sight of it caused Buffy's awareness of her own gold ring to shoot through the roof and it felt like it was burning her skin. She wanted to rip the thing off.

"I don't want to," she said simply and Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Stop being so goddamn childish."

"You stop being childish," Buffy replied stupidly. She furrowed her brow, waving a hand at him. "You... suck. You sucked two years ago and you suck even more today."

"Oh, nice…" Dean frowned. "Are you drunk?"

"Are you?" Buffy asked and Dean just stared at her, his mouth hanging open before stepping towards her and Buffy took a step back, her hands up to bat him away but he got close enough to smell the alcohol on her breath.

"Jesus, you are drunk. What, you wanted to forget about the guy you left upstairs..." He paused, his eyes getting dark again. "Naked?"

"Oh, whatever, it's not like a thousand other girls haven't seen you naked before," Buffy snarked, frowning at him. "What's one more?"

Dean didn't take the bait. "Well, see, there's one little problem with that scenario. I'm kinda _married_ to one of them and I kinda _don't want_ to be married to her."

"Good," Buffy said, unable to keep the slight frown from her lips as she processed his words in her booze fog. She didn't like the sliver of pain that suddenly stabbed at her heart. It was crazy, both of them and the word 'marriage' in the same sentence. She was done with him, over him - had been for two years. "I don't want to be married to you either. I don't like you."

Dean snorted. "I don't like you. Great, got that out of the way. Now-"

Buffy cut him off by stepping up and shoving him but Dean was quicker to react this time and he grabbed her by the wrists, tugging her closer and getting in her face. "Stop. Doing. That."

"You deserve it," she replied heatedly.

"You're gonna bruise my lungs at this rate," Dean snapped, dropping her wrists and stepping back. "How about you pay attention instead of focusing on your 'How Hard Can We Hit Dean Today' game?"

"But it's so much more fun," Buffy said with a lilt in her voice before she tried shoving him again.

"You know what, Summers?" Dean asked with a condescending smirk, stepping out of her reach and Buffy's eye twitched. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you're acting like a woman scorned. But if I remember correctly, _you're_ the one that ended things. Not me."

"Oh, that's rich," she said, continuing to follow him around the small space but he kept out of her reach. "If memory serves, you're the one who freaked because I was friends with a werewolf. And a witch. And vampires. And my sister used to be a ball of energy! Any of this ringing a bell for ya? You don't remember getting your little back all bent out of shape?"

"That was not-"

"But it was, _Dean-y_," Buffy said, her voice getting louder. "You tried to shoot him… You tried to shoot Oz when his control slipped just a little-"

"He was in a room full of people!"

"I told you he was fine! And you wouldn't have even known about him if I hadn't told you because then you had to go sneak around, spying-"

"I wasn't spying-"

"Being a creeper-"

"I wasn't being a creeper!"

"You were! Even after I told you he was fine, after I confided in you like a big, stupid dummy because I thought that's what people did. Confide and..."

Buffy waved her hands, unable to get the words out or catch her breath getting caught up in the memories of anger, guilt and regret. It had been different, new and fresh and… everything sweet and nice and exciting and thrilling that their relationship had grown into. It had been the first instance in years that Buffy let herself go with a man again before it all turned into a fireball from Hell. It had literally given her a new definition for the term 'oil and water.'

"And talk... and do idiotic couple things or whatever."

He gave her a hard glare, ignoring the way her body was moving in reaction to her frantic movements. He shook his head at her, clenching his jaw as he crossed his arms, his own memories running through his mind. "This is already getting old and it's only been a few hours. How the hell did I manage this for a whole freaking year?"

"Oh, bite my ass."

"Been there, sweetheart, done that," Dean replied quickly with a slimy wink and Buffy just looked at him, her face twisted. "Now, how about you retract your claws, and let's have an actual conversation?"

Buffy sneered at him as the moment suddenly caught up with her and she felt a whoosh of adrenaline slam through her system. She frowned at the feeling, frowned at him before looking away as her arms started feeling slightly tingly, antsy. She wondered absently how the hell much had been in her drink before losing her train of thought, that familiar sensation of fuzzy thinking coming back.

All she felt was her body, how strange it felt, like it wasn't hers, almost an out-of-body experience... She was pissed as hell at him... but all she saw was Dean... all she wanted was Dean. It was a familiar sensation, something she had always felt around him – their anger usually turned into some sort of violent passionate interaction of some sort only this time it felt about a hundred times stronger.

"Oh..." she said under her breath, getting lost in the sensation, her eyes focusing on him once more.

Dean frowned at her, recognizing that look and he took a step away from her. "Buffy-"

Like a tidal wave slamming through her chest, Buffy felt an intense wave of desire rush through her, her breathing getting heavy and she had no idea what she was doing or how she was even able to think about moving but she came at him, pushing him back against the concrete wall, one hand holding his shirt in a fist as the other grabbed him by the neck, her nails scratching and she pulled his head down to hers.

Dean didn't have time to react to her onslaught and he felt enough sense about him to stiffen his body, force himself not to react. He was pissed as hell right now. Not only that she had just left him earlier - much less naked - but that she was bringing up all this stupid crap from the past.

The sex against the wall thing had quickly climbed to one of the hottest things he had ever done and it wasn't just that he had her pinned to the wall - it was that it was Buffy in his arms, that she had been needing him just as badly. The energy had been almost too intense and was seared into his brain... which only served to remind him why they had parted ways, why they were such extreme opposites... why she had left her goddamn mark on him.

And then she had to go and freak out and lock him in her bathroom and just leave.

So when he saw her downstairs, drinking of all things at nine in the goddamn morning, he had seen red. He had felt a livid rage start in the bottom of his stomach and he had considered punching a wall before making his way over to her. But then he was walking and he was glaring and he was meeting Faith and then he was hearing all sorts of tales about the shit Buffy had told everyone about him.

And then she had to prattle on about crap she didn't even understand. Crap she didn't understand then and she clearly didn't understand now and crap she clearly had no interest in hearing his side about.

Awesome.

And now here he was, angry and bitter and feeling a little bit like he should be upset, like his feelings were hurt or some shit, but he didn't push her away. He didn't _want_ to push her away despite the logical reasoning behind it. Instead he concentrated on her little hand on the back of his neck, her skin hot against his and her other balling his shirt up, tightening, pulling him closer. Her lips on his, her body pressing against his...

Dean returned the kiss just as strongly, forcing her lips open and thrusting his tongue into her mouth. His hands came up to cradle her head as he felt both passion and anger melding inside and he fueled all of that into the kiss. He wasn't sure of anything in that moment but how good she felt, how right, how amazing and how tight these goddamn pants were getting and how much he wanted to shove her up against the wall behind him and fuck her all over again.

Buffy took care of that part for him, pushing him back against the wall, using her strength to keep him in place when he tried to push away and turn around. No, she liked the control, she liked being in charge and she sure as hell liked having him trapped while she was able to keep him there.

They both lost sense of the time as they fought for dominance. Dean felt her nails rake against his bicep and Buffy felt the delicious tingle of his hand gripping her hair in a fist when she bit his lip. For a moment he managed to get the upper hand and twisted her around but she used his momentum to swing them back and he felt the rough concrete digging into his skin through his shirt.

Neither of them heard the door opening and neither of them knew what was happening - all they felt were each other, lost in the other's touch - when Faith's hands grabbed both of their shoulders and threw them apart. Buffy felt her lips protest violently from the sensation as she accidentally bit her tongue and Dean was thrown into the wall.

"Damn it!" he growled, holding the shoulder that had impacted and glaring at Faith. "What the hell?"

"What the hell is right, you horny ass," Faith snapped back before turning her glare on Buffy. "And you too, B, what the hell is going on with you two?"

Neither of them answered and the only sound for a moment was their heavy breathing before Buffy, coming back to herself, brought her hands up to her face before running them through her hair.

Buffy shook her head, staring at Dean. "I don't know."

He didn't respond. Faith looked back and forth between them.

"Somebody's gotta have something to say here," she said and neither responded again. Faith sighed in exasperation, bringing a hand up to her forehead. "Okay, whatever, you guys have horny past relationship issues, I get it."

She missed the look that passed between Buffy and Dean as she fished out her cell phone. She held it out for Buffy.

"Buffy, dry yourself off and call Giles. He's getting ants in his pants because you ain't picking up your damn phone." Buffy stared at it like it was a foreign object and Faith rolled her eyes, flipping it open and hitting send on Giles' number. "This is the last time I'm going anywhere with you."

The phone was ringing as Faith handed it to Buffy and Buffy took it, licking her lips before forcing herself to calm down. Closing her eyes, she held the phone up to her ear. Giles answered.

"Faith?"

"Giles, hey..."

"Oh, Buffy, good…"

"And you," Faith said, her voice bordering on a whisper so as not to interrupt the phone conversation as she pointed at Dean. Dean jerked back, making a face at her, still holding his shoulder. "Explain."

"Explain what?"

"Oh, I don't know..." Faith crossed her arms, setting a dark look on him. "How about you start with what you're doing in Las Vegas and then cross right over into what you're doing with Buffy."

"I really don't think any of that is any of your business, princess," Dean replied with a smile, his eyes switching back to Buffy who had turned her back on them as she talked into the phone. "That's a conversation reserved for me and her."

"Well, you see, B and I have this special relationship," Faith started before chuckling. "Haven't always gotten along actually, what with the killing and the maiming and all that..." She didn't miss the startled look on his face at her words. "But we sort of forged this bond. And so when I see packages of asshole land on her doorstep, I get a little worried." Faith smirked. "It's kinda funny, actually, me being worried about her. But you know what? I am."

"What exactly did she tell you about me?" Dean asked, his voice mocking.

"She told me enough," the brunette said with a nod, taking a step forward. She couldn't help herself as she dragged her eyes down his body, noting the very nice way his shirt fit on him, the very nice way he fit on himself. The very nice way this man would look naked and it all reminded her of the stories she had heard from Buffy. Albeit the very few stories she had heard but she had definitely heard enough. "So enlighten me, Winchester. Whatcha doin' with Buffy?"

Dean snorted. "I didn't ask for this crap."

"Oh, you're gonna get a little more than crap when I get started," she replied with promise in her voice before something shiny caught her gaze from the corner of her eye. She glanced at it, not thinking twice when she saw the ring on his finger before meeting his eyes again.

And then it clicked.

Faith's jaw dropped as she stared at his left hand where it was holding his right shoulder - the one she had shoved into the wall. Dean knew immediately what she was going to do and tried to dodge her but she was too quick, shoving him back against the cold concrete and grabbing his hand. Dean let out a pained noise, grumbling something under his breath about freakish women but she didn't hear it.

"What is this?" she asked Dean, jerking his hand around like it wasn't attached to his arm and Dean let out another pained noise, trying to snatch it back.

"That's also none of your business, Wonder Woman," he growled. "Now get off me."

"Buffy," Faith said over her shoulder, ignoring his struggles, her voice even despite the pit of dread growing in her stomach but Buffy didn't hear. "Buffy!"

"What?" Buffy asked, annoyed before turning back to the phone. "Giles, hang on… yes, I am aware of how important this is and… just… just hang on..." Buffy covered the mouthpiece as she turned to face the duo. She raised an eyebrow when she saw Faith dangling Dean against the wall. "Did I miss something?"

"Buffy," Faith said slowly, releasing Dean from the wall and dragging him over by his hand towards Buffy, jerking his hand into her face. They both ignored the slew of curses flying from his mouth. "Tell me this means he's married to somebody else, B."

Faith watched all the color drain from Buffy's face as she stared at the ring. She didn't look at Faith but instead looked at Dean who looked just as shell-shocked as she did. Faith immediately put the pieces together and grabbed Buffy's left hand, seeing the matching wedding band. They all heard a faint, "Buffy? What is going on?" from the other end of Faith's phone but nobody paid any attention.

Both Buffy and Dean winced at the grip on their hands as Faith blurted, "Oh my shitting god, you got fucking married?!"

"What? Married?" Giles repeated faintly on the other side before Buffy reacted and quickly snapped the phone shut before pulling her other hand back.

"It's not what it looks like," Buffy said and Faith just stared at her incredulously, her mouth hanging open, her eyes disbelieving. "It's a curse!"

"A curse?" Faith repeated, finally dropping Dean's hand and he winced, pulling it to his chest to cradle it. Buffy glanced at him, absently realizing under different circumstances she would have started laughing at him for the way he looked right now but all it did was make her upset. "Are you shitting me? Buffy, you got married in Vegas like a goddamn idiot and you're blaming a curse? Is this curse's name Jim Beam by any chance?"

"Jesus, Faith, I'm not an idiot," Buffy snapped in return before illustrating what they meant. She tried to pull the ring off but it wouldn't budge and Faith furrowed her brow, staring at her hand. She shook her head as Buffy said, "See? It won't come off. Neither will his."

"What?"

"Yeah," Dean said behind them. "Curse."

They ignored him though as Faith once more grabbed Buffy's hand, trying to take the ring off herself but once again, it wouldn't move.

"Oh, man," she said, "This is bad."

"Yeah."

"What..." Faith whipped around to face Dean who took a few steps back. "Did you do this?" she asked venomously and Dean gaped like a fish.

"What? No!"

"Faith, I don't think-"

"I swear to god, if you did this to her, I will kill you," Faith finished, pointing her finger at him for emphasis and Dean knew in that moment that she was not messing around and he felt like a bucket of ice had been dropped on his head and he just stared at her.

"Wow," Buffy said, a ghost of a smile on her face as she watched her sister Slayer. "You'd kill him for me?"

"Oh, shut up, Buffy," Faith snapped, turning away from both of them. Dean gave Buffy an urgent look and she just shrugged. "We gotta... we gotta do something. Jesus, it's not like we don't already have enough crap on our Shit Plates, you have to go and get freaking married _and_ freaking cursed!"

"I'm sorry," Buffy said with another shrug, her voice meek, but Faith didn't respond. Dean just stood there, watching Buffy when Faith suddenly whipped around.

"Only you would actually pull this Lifetime movie crap on me," Faith snapped at her. "Gimme my phone, we need to call Willow." Buffy handed it over obediently and when Faith flipped it open, she saw another missed call from Giles. "Oh, great. And now we have Daddy Giles on our asses all over again."

* * *

It was nearing 11 a.m. when Sam Winchester finally snapped his laptop shut, taking a deep breath. He glanced at his watch before glancing at his phone before shaking his head in annoyance.

"Dean, where are you?" he asked the empty room but he got no response. He was definitely getting to the point of being freaked out. Dean never went this long without at least calling. He never, ever stayed out this long when it came to a woman. And he never, ever, ever didn't call when something was wrong. Which was quickly leading Sam to believe that either he was laying passed out in a ditch somewhere, nursing a nasty hangover, or he had been kidnapped.

He really wished he wasn't laying in a ditch.

And he also wished he hadn't gotten kidnapped.

Scrolling through the three numbers he had for Dean's cell phones, he selected the first one, bringing the phone up to start the calls all over again when he glanced out the window of the motel room. At first, all he saw was a black blob through the gauzy curtains before his head snapped back up and he realized he was looking at the Impala.

Sam let out an exasperated sound as he ended the call and stuffed the phone into his pocket before heading outside.

The sun was glaring at him the moment he opened the door but the breeze was cold on his bare arms - a nice fall day in Las Vegas - when he spotted Dean sitting in the front seat, staring at the wall of the motel, the sounds of Lynyrd Skynyrd's Tuesday's Gone echoing dully from his speakers inside the closed car.

Sam paused a few feet away, noticing that Dean didn't even acknowledge him before he stepped up and banged his fist against the window a few times, causing his brother to jump, his arm coming up to defend himself before rolling his eyes at him.

"What?" Dean asked angrily through the window, the loud music barely letting Sam even hear that. "Leave me alone."

Sam stared at him expectantly and Dean once again tried to wave him away, turning back to glaring fiercely at the brick wall. Sam ducked down so he was level with him and slammed his palm against the window again, liking the feeling of knowing he had his right hand back after getting that stupid cast removed - finally after that freaky zombie action a few weeks ago. It was nice being able to itch his damn wrist without having to shove a pencil down the stupid cast.

He could see Dean grumbling something to himself as he finally turned the car off before opening the door, climbing out.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam asked and Dean opened his mouth to reply before changing his mind. He closed his door roughly, leaning against it, hanging his head. Sam leaned down to catch his eye. "Where have you been? I've been calling you non-stop since seven o'clock this morning."

"Sam…"

Sam waved his arms. "What's the point in having three different cell phones if you don't even answer them?"

Dean didn't respond. He just stared at the ground in front of him, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. Sam waved a hand in front of his face. "Dean?"

"What?" Dean grunted.

"Where have you been?"

"Man… Sam," Dean started, finally looking up, squinting against the sun. "That is a long-ass story. And..."

"And...?"

"And... and we can't leave Las Vegas… yet." Sam ducked his head down again but his brother refused to meet his eyes. He waited expectantly but Dean didn't say anything further as he turned and headed into the motel room.

"Okay..." Sam said, annoyed, following him. He closed the door with extra force as he watched Dean pause in front of one of the beds, the made bed where Dean should have slept the night before, looking confused before taking his jacket off and tossing it on a chair. "Dean."

"Yeah?" he replied absently, scratching at his neck before rubbing his face vigorously, turning in a slow circle. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"What happened? Why can't we leave?"

Dean finally stopped and looked at him and all Sam saw was terror.

All Dean felt was terror. And not just because the hot chick - not his hot chick, she had looked just as stricken as he felt and didn't say another word after her friend had caught them - had threatened to remove his balls with pliers if he didn't come back to the hotel that night but because... he was married. It had taken the drive over, the pausing at all the stop lights and then parking and taking a damn moment to just think for all of it to sink in like a gigantic boulder sitting in his stomach, getting heavier and heavier.

He. Was. Fucking. Married.

To fucking. Buffy. Summers.

In Las Vegas.

None of it had really felt real until now. Until this moment when he was away from her. When he felt like his ring was going to burn his finger off, when he felt like the only thing in the entire world he wanted to do was head straight back to her hotel room and do a repeat of the wall business.

His skin was literally crawling with the desire of doing just that - like it couldn't stand being apart from her, like all he wanted to do was crawl inside her... It felt like the last few months of their screwed up relationship - if you could even call it that. A whole mess of angry, passionate, amazing-as-hell sex with little moments of being calm before the ceiling crashed down on them all over again.

It was all getting a little fucking ridiculous and for a split sane second, he had wondered what exactly these rings were really doing to them before the insanity of it all came rushing back and all he could think about was being married to Buffy… and doing marital naughtiness with Buffy…

Holy god, he was married to Buffy Summers. The one woman on the entire planet who had managed to slink under his skin and create a little cave where he often visited when he didn't realize what he was doing - those little moments when he let himself slip and remember. The woman he actually felt regret with, the woman he actually thought about things with... like, future things. And... life things. Things he had never thought he would dream about and things he knew he couldn't have considering the life he and Sam led. It was like he was a walking glutton for punishment.

But then it had ended and then they hadn't seen each other in two years and then he had woken up to a beautiful morning with a sexy faceless woman who happened to be Buffy Freaking Summers.

"Oh, man," Dean breathed. "I messed up, Sammy."

"What are you talking about?" Sam furrowed his brow, taking a step forward. "And what the hell happened to your face?"

Dean blinked at him before reaching up to touch his jaw. He immediately regretted it when his finger jabbed against his sensitive skin, the tender bone underneath. Freaking Slayer punching him like a freaking punching bag. He frowned. "It's kinda why we can't leave... just yet."

Sam waited but Dean didn't elaborate again. Instead, he licked his lips, opened his mouth like he wanted to say more before changing his mind and turning away. He made his way towards the bathroom and Sam waved at his back.

"Okay, fine. Well... when you feel like actually telling me why we can't leave so we can actually leave… I found another possible job. In Milwaukee. Get this, people robbing banks and then a week later? Dead… suicides." Sam waited for a reaction. "Kinda weird..."

He didn't get anything as Dean let out an absent, "Yeah," where he was paused at the bathroom door before swinging back around, making Sam jerk back at the sudden move. "Sam, I'm married."

There was a moment of tense silence with Sam just blinking at him, his face rolling through multiple emotions before he let out a bark of laughter. "Ha ha, dude. Hilarious… I get it... Vegas, eloping, Elvis, the whole nine yards. Good one."

Dean just stood there as Sam smiled congenially at him. "Is that your cover story for last night? What, did you get herpes from a stripper or something?"

Dean didn't respond again as he stared at him, his eyes wide. Sam chuckled, about to tell him to knock it off, that he got the joke and that they needed to get the hell out of the motel room before they had to pay for another night when he stopped, his own face turning serious as Dean just stared at him, a frozen look of shock on his own features. "Oh, god... you're not joking." Dean looked away. "What?"

Dean moved to talk but Sam beat him to the punch, taking the remaining few steps towards him. "What? Are you... are you freaking serious, you got _married_?"

Dean just shrugged.

"What?" Sam ran his hands through his hair, turning away before turning back. Dean pitifully lifted his left hand and Sam stared at the golden band on his ring finger, his mouth hanging open. "Are you freaking serious, dude?"

Dean shook his head, letting out a nervous laugh. He stared at his hand for a moment before sitting down on his bed. He shrugged. "Man, I... I don't know."

"As if we don't have enough problems right now, Dean," Sam snapped, turning to pace the room. "We're finally getting some serious crap on the demon and… and me and then you..." Sam shook his head in shock, his eyes trained on the floor before he whipped around, startling Dean and sitting across from him on the opposite bed.

"Okay," he said, holding his hands out. "There are... options, I think. I mean..." Sam ran his hands through his hair. "How could you be so stupid, Dean?" He took a deep breath. "Okay, right. Um... There are things, like... annulment. Did you... uh... Do you know her?"

"What? Of course I know her! Jeez, Sammy," Dean replied, his voice pinched with anger as he stood again. "What the hell, you think I'd just marry some random chick off the Strip or something?" Suddenly, as if another brick load of knowledge just smacked him in the face, he turned to look at his brother. "Oh god, I'm married."

"Yeah," Sam said slowly, watching his brother start to breathe too quickly as he rubbed his eyes roughly. "So... who is she?"

"It's..." Dean stood back up, licking his lips painfully. "It's Buffy."

"Buffy?"

Dean paused, his eyes trained on Sam. "I never told you about Buffy?"

Sam stared at him, shaking his head. Dean waved his hand, waving the question away like it was never asked. "Then never mind, I don't know her."

"Yeah, right," Sam said, standing as well. "Dude, who's Buffy?"

"She's no one."

"Right," Sam snorted. "You kinda married her so I think she might be someone."

"Would you just drop it and help me not be married?" Dean growled and Sam actually chuckled, making Dean grumble loudly under his breath about inconsiderate assholes. He ran his hands through his hair as he went over every conversation he could remember having with Sam. Of course he wouldn't tell Sam about Buffy, why would he? Hell, he could barely talk about Cassie, a regular freaking chick. He remembered better than anyone the lore on Slayers and their dad's suspicions about how they got to be Slayers. His dark, ugly suspicions. Why would he go around boasting about bedding one of them?

Why the hell had he actually developed feelings for one of them? Why the hell did he spend an entire year on the road with one of them and why in the blue hell was he married to one now? Now those - those were some excellent questions.

All questions he didn't want to think about - all questions he didn't want Sam to think about.

He felt the panic starting all over again.

"Yeah," Sam said, interrupting Dean's thought process, "That might be a problem if I don't know anything about her. Dean, spit it out."

Dean waited a moment, weighing his options. He shrugged. "We just dated for a while, that's all."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Like you dated Cassie? Is this another Cassie?"

"No," Dean said, turning his back. "It was… after Cassie. It was when I started doing my own gigs."

"Wow, didn't feel like mentioning that?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "The things you learn about a guy… when he gets married."

"Shut up!"

Sam bit back an amused laugh. "Okay, well... how long did you date?"

"A while."

"How long is a while?"

"About..." Dean waved his hand in estimation even though he knew exactly how long that while had been. It wasn't exactly a year that you just forgot. "A year... or so."

"A year?" Sam echoed incredulously. "You were actually with a girl for an entire year?"

"Oh, shut up, you don't have to sound so shocked."

"Dean," Sam said, "I've never seen you with one girl for more than one night. A few weeks I could get with Cassie but then you left town and... How were you with this girl for an entire year?"

"It's a long story." Hello, understatement, meet century.

"Come on, Dean, does she know about us? Does she know what we do?" Sam scoffed. "Man, the crap you gave me about my freaking friends… Give me the abbreviated version then."

"How is any of this relevant, Sam?" Dean snapped, his hands on his hips as he paced in the small space. He found he really didn't feel like explaining anything ever about anything at all to him right then. He felt stuck - he wanted to tell Sam, he did and he knew that his brother deserved to know and all that brotherly, family crap… but he also suddenly wished he had just married a herpes-infested stripper. God, that would be so much easier to explain right now. "Just… tell me how I can get the hell out of this stupid jam."

Sam stared at him. Dean? Girlfriend? A whole year? Was he in the Twilight Zone? He couldn't wrap his mind around it. Dean didn't do girlfriends. He had been shocked when he heard about Cassie, met her and saw how they acted. And after just a few weeks, no less. Who was this girl that Dean had spent an entire year of his life with and had conveniently failed to mention? Sam suddenly found himself much more interested in the girl than the problem but he also knew pushing Dean was about as useful as slipping wet spaghetti through a keyhole so he let his questions slide for the moment.

That would come later after they found a solution for… whatever the hell this was.

"Well, okay, uh… how did you get into this... stupid jam to begin with?"

Dean moved to answer but nothing came out and he snapped his mouth shut again. He shrugged. "I don't... I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember? Since when can you drink enough to not remember a night of marital sin?" Sam asked with a slight snicker and Dean was suddenly beside him, punching his shoulder.

"Stop saying that crap!" he growled. "I'm... Christ, I'm married." He shook his head at the room, his skin paling. "I don't marry. I especially don't marry crazy chicks." He moved about as he talked to himself and Sam watched him with interest as he continued, using his hands to emphasize his words, "I don't... _marry_. I slip in, I do the deed, I slip out. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am. Not... wham, bam, let's tie a noose around our necks for eternity... Oh, god."

"Okay," Sam said, moving to pat Dean on the back as he bent over again, breathing too quickly. He let out a little whiny noise and Sam frowned. "Let's just... calm down."

"Calm down?" Dean roared. "I'm freaking married, Sammy!"

Sam shrugged and Dean continued on, "I'm somebody's husband. I'm… Buffy's husband... oh my god."

Sam opened his mouth to say something comforting but he had nothing. What could he say? Oh, sorry you got married and all, maybe we can just ditch town and pretend it never happened. Or, oh yeah, that sucks to be you, she must be a real dog...

Ignoring the fact that Dean was suddenly a well of secrets - all very interesting, especially not being on the receiving end - Sam moved back to the little table he had been sitting at, opening his laptop again. He pulled up a new browser, wondering how it was possible to both feel pissed and really bad for somebody at the same time.

Sam shrugged, typing in 'Las Vegas Annulments' as he said, "Maybe it's... easier than we're making it out to be."

"What?"

"Getting it annulled."

"Right," Dean said with a nod, taking a deep breath. Annulment, good. Easy would be very good. And then the rest of the problem dawned on him. Sam wasn't looking at when he saw his face pale further as he brought his hand again. He tried once more without success to take it off and the familiar panic was back, beating at his chest plate as he rubbed the ring so hard he felt the pressure in his bones. "Uh... Sam?"

"What?"

"There's something else..."

"What else could there possibly be to add to this gem of a trip?" Sam asked his computer screen, his voice rich with sarcasm.

Dean licked his lips, his hand still up in the air. "The ring doesn't come off."

It was like someone had slid them into wet sand as Sam turned, very slowly, to look at his brother. "What?"

"The ring?" Dean looked ready to throw up. "It doesn't come off."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

A/N: Thank you for the amazing reviews and favorites, everyone! It means so much that you guys like the story so far and I hope you continue liking where it goes. And haha, remember when I said the last update was long? This one is longer. Looks to be a recurring theme for this fic... :P

_Three Years Ago_

This was turning into the worst trip of her entire stupid life.

Okay, dramatics aside, this still sucked the big one as she watched the plane that she was supposed to be on coast right above her, the sound of the jet engines drowning out everything as it whirled past and in the direction of where she really wanted to be, which was home. Or... the place closest to home she had anymore which was Cleveland, Ohio.

"Damn," Buffy said under her breath, kicking at the loose rubble around her, kicking up a small dust storm as she fought the urge to just stomp her feet right then and there, before picking up her duffle bag. Taking a deep, supposed-to-be-cleansing breath, Buffy shook it off.

So the hunt had taken longer than expected - not usually a surprising thing. So she had missed her flight - again, not usually such a surprising thing.

Unfortunately this was all coupled with the fact that she was stuck in this tiny ass little town, no rental car, nothing to do but buy another ticket for the next flight and wait... and simmer and gripe inside her mind about how spectacularly crappy said hunt had turned into, especially when she had gotten interrupted.

Buffy scoffed, squinting up at the setting sun. Hunters. It didn't matter what kind of hunter she ran into, they were all the same. Cocky, moronic and in way over their heads. Very few of them respected the darkness that they fought, instead betting on their vendettas to keep them alive.

Alright, scratch that. Some of them did know what they were doing but a majority of them didn't have the cajones and she had spent more than a few hours of her travels around the country meeting some and finishing the jobs they started when they took off running in the opposite direction once things got a little too hairy. Very few had stuck around, usually the ones who had been around the block a few times and were bitter as the day was young - and most of the time, they did leave each other with a bitter taste in the other's mouths.

Buffy didn't approve of humans doing her work and hunters seemed to think she was just a mythical fairytale and that she was really just a crazy person walking around with a big pointy stick.

Not exactly the best circumstances to meet new people.

Buffy had experienced both sides of the scale on the hunter expectations and so when she met a new one, she was weary. And this time, she definitely had every right to be weary. Stupid jackass not only got in her way but he practically shoved _her_ out of the way, managing to simultaneously call her a moron for being there while insinuating they should get a drink later and that the drink should have her pants unzipped for him.

Not okay. Definitely not okay when he had shot a vampire in the chest with a shotgun, only enraging it and leaving the hard work for Buffy. It all led to a fun conversation about Slayers and Hunters.

Kind of like the birds and bees talk except Buffy used stronger words before shoving off to catch her flight which she ended up missing anyway.

It left her feeling very pissed off. None of it was helped by the fact that this hunter was kind of... distracting. Like… beautiful. No, not beautiful. Well, he was beautiful. He was gorgeous. Like the typical response to his smooth words were probably, 'Let me drop my panties and have you take me right here, handsome.' And then the responder would lie down, spread her legs and probably say something clichéd like, 'Ride it, cowboy.'

But then all of it was ruined when he opened his big mouth and bitched her out, like he had any right to actually be the one complaining. It had both made the rage inside her belly turn into an inferno as well as her limbs feel all tingly as he got in her face about interrupting his hunt, not giving one crap that she could easily turn him upside down right there with her pinky, laughing.

It had been... hot.

In a weird way.

And annoying.

"No, Giles, I don't need a rental car," Buffy said sarcastically to herself. She found the road once again, making her way towards the airport and the little motel next to it. She could see them in the distance but it was still a ways away. "Walking's healthy for you. It gets the blood flowing and you actually get to see Craptown, USA and hey, think about all the stray demons I could find! No, no I want to do this!"

Buffy rolled her eyes, adjusting her bag over her shoulder.

"Idiot."

Pulling her hair up into a ponytail, Buffy thought about calling Giles before deciding against it. He had been running her pretty ragged lately and having a little time away from his missions and news of doom and gloom would do her good. Hell, it would do her skin some good to get some sleep in the same elevation for two nights.

She was pretty sure it had something to do with the fact that she had refused to stay in one spot - namely, Cleveland and even more namely, on top of another Hellmouth - to help train the new Slayers as they trickled in. The thought of being stuck, being somewhere where she was once again Responsible Girl really made her want to throw up before ripping her skin off. And not because she didn't care or because she didn't want to be there for the new Slayers, be there to guide them and help them... She knew that, better than anyone, she could relate to them and what they were facing... But really, she just needed to get away.

When she had told Giles, he had responded with a lot of ohs and ahs and I-understands before agreeing to help fund her own way of making the world a better place. She would travel, collect new Slayers when they needed collecting and otherwise would go to places where there was reported nasty activity.

It had actually turned into the best decision of her life.

Nobody really needed her anymore. Really _needed_ her. Dawn was in college in Europe. Willow and Kennedy were bouncing around the globe, currently in Brazil. Xander was off in Europe somewhere, being the European leg of the new Watcher's Council that Giles was currently working on assembling - all with special funding from a deeply hidden account in Wolfram and Hart that Angel had arranged after the Watcher's Council headquarters went kablooey and Sunnydale became more crater-y.

Despite Angel's less than eloquent descent concerning Wolfram and Hart about a year after that, he had done an amazingly excellent job at securing the funds and to this date, they had yet to run dry. The last time Giles had been in contact with him, he had assured them that it wouldn't be a problem. He just suggested they keep the renovations on the good guys' side on the down low so as to not attract unwanted attention and so that meant they had to keep themselves under the radar which meant crappy motels, cheap airfare and a slow rebuilding.

But it was getting done and for free, at that. Well... free in the sense of they didn't have to go out and steal from banks or rob little old ladies or actually get jobs instead of saving the world.

And Buffy didn't question it.

Having endless supplies of money from an evil corporation from her vampire ex-boyfriend really made everything that much more delicious. And humorous. And better when she thought about how that money had been made and now it was being used against the bad guys instead of for them.

And it also made her feel less guilty when she ordered herself a nice manicure and pedicure after playing knee-deep in demon goo. And also less guilty when she needed to replace her beautiful brown leather boots after getting ruined in the demon goo.

It was really just... exhilarating, being on her own. Doing her thing. Being the Slayer but also being... free.

Free.

Main word. Best word. Free.

So maybe she did run into a few hiccups every now and again and maybe she did meet some unsavory people and jerky people who really ticked her off and made her miss her flight... she wouldn't have it any other way.

Pulling out her phone, Buffy dialed 411 and asked for the airport. Twenty minutes later, she was left with an even more dour mood than before as she booked a flight for the next evening, the next one out that would take her anywhere remotely close to Ohio. She could have rented a car and driven somewhere but driving plus Buffy was never a healthy equation, no matter how badly her feet yelled at her, hence the lack of car in the first place.

This was really not turning into her trip.

Buffy let out a sigh of relief as she turned the corner and was greeted with the sight of the motel. She dodged a few cars as she crossed the street, regretting the thick heeled boots she had chosen for her journey as she pulled open one of the double glass doors to the motel. The lobby was deserted.

"Oh... awesome," she grumbled, approaching the high-topped desk and slapping her fingers lightly on the bell on the counter top. Nada.

"Hello?" Buffy called out after a minute, hitting the bell again before letting out an aggravated sigh. Her feet were killing her, she was sure she had vampire dust in her ears and she couldn't escape the feeling that she had really screwed the pooch by missing her flight. It only angered her more knowing the reason why she had missed her flight but she pushed it away. Just another in a spindle of crazies aka get the hell over it.

Instead, she leaned over the counter slightly, looking to catch a glimpse of someone in the hallways leading to offices in the back but there was no one. "Anyone back there?"

No response and Buffy sighed loudly.

"Funny running into you again," came a voice from behind her, the voice annoyingly close to her ear, so close she could feel the heat of his breath when he exhaled against the back of her bare neck and she fought the urge to shiver as well as sidestep and throw her elbow into his nose. She would sure as shit recognize that cocky voice anywhere after the day she had just had.

"You wouldn't happen to be stalking me, now would you?" Buffy asked, raising an eyebrow as she turned to face him, leaning back against the motel counter. And there he stood, the ever present Dean Winchester, wearing the same stupid grin he had worn after they had gotten the vampires. Only this time, instead of carrying a sawed-off shotgun, he was toting around a raggedy bag. And he smelled and looked just as delicious as he had in the woods. Maybe a bit more of that... man musk or whatever. Gross man smell.

Yes... very gross man smell. Not at all a sexy man smell that made Buffy want to lick her lips or do any eye googly things.

He was… gross.

Right.

Dean smirked and Buffy stared at his lips for a second too long before meeting his eyes again. "I was just going to ask the same question, princess."

"You know," Buffy mused, "That's getting a little old. That term is usually reserved for the guys with daddy and pervy issues."

"Well, it's nice to know that savory attitude of yours hasn't left the building yet," he replied. "That's just... cute."

"I'm just adorable," she replied sarcastically when the motel manager appeared behind her, clearing her throat. Buffy turned, ignoring the man behind her. She didn't like that he was here. She didn't like that he had randomly appeared out of nowhere - again.

She was sure she should have been worried about how close he was standing to her, how easily he had slipped into her personal bubble space again without her taking notice and just invaded it without even asking nicely. She should be worried that it wasn't bothering her and she should just shove him away and tell him she didn't do creepers.

But she didn't do any of that. In fact, she knew right then that she was entirely too aware of how close he was and how much he was not moving. And that she didn't mind in the least.

She was tired, that was all. Long day.

"One bed, please." The manager nodded, moving to grab the paperwork.

"Thought you were flying out tonight," he drawled from behind her. Buffy didn't reply as he continued, "You sure as hell wouldn't shut up about it earlier."

"You sure as hell are creeping up the creepy totem pole with every word you speak," she snapped as the motel manager glanced up. Buffy smiled brightly at her.

"Just one for both of you?" she asked and Buffy blanched, her cheeks stained with pink.

"What? No," she said quickly as he chuckled behind her. "No, no, I don't know him. He's not... no."

The manager shrugged. "Okay, whatever. The total for one night is $59.68. Checkout time is 11 a.m. No later."

"Right," Buffy said, slipping her credit card on the counter. The woman nodded as she took it and went to ring it up.

"You sure you don't want company in that big empty, cold bed? Could probably use some warming up..."

Buffy ignored the trail of desire that ignited down her spine at his words. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to whirl around and face him. Forced herself to say, "You have got some freaking nerve, buddy. I don't know you. And I really don't like you and I really don't think you should be trying to come on to me knowing I can shove your ass through that wall over there."

Because really, she was mostly sure all of this was because she hadn't gotten any decent, intensely satisfying sex since Spike and that was well, well over a few years ago. None of that was helped when she found out he had been alive the entire time she thought he was dead, leading her to eventually wanting nothing to do with anyone who had a penis.

She was just... overreacting. She had purposefully avoided anything male-related, not wanting to deal with the mess - both figuratively and literally. It always seemed like a good idea until she met the guys like the one standing before her, challenging her, upsetting her… being all… cute.

"Oh, a threat from a Slayer." His smirk deepened. "I always liked a challenge..."

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Don't tempt me." She turned back to the desk, tapping her fingernails on the cheap Formica impatiently, waiting.

Dean chuckled, putting his hands up. "I'm just having a little fun here," he said innocently. "You know, if you need a ride..."

"No."

"I'm just saying-"

"I just missed my flight, that's all, no big. And it's certainly not a ticket into my pants."

"Well," Dean continued, ignoring her snipe, "I'd say judging by the hostile waves oozing off of you like acid, you'll be stuck here for a few days before you get another flight out. Am I right?"

Buffy didn't respond for a moment before saying, "No."

"Okay, fine. Whatever. Just trying to be nice."

Buffy snorted.

"Alright, lady, here's your key. Sign this," the woman behind the counter said, sliding a pen and a receipt towards her, "And have a wonderful stay."

"Thanks," Buffy said half-heartedly, barely signing her signature before taking her card and the key, grabbing her bag and turning to walk away only to run face-first into Dean's chest. "God, move!"

"Hey, watch it, I was just standing here. Why don't _you _watch where _you're_ walking," Dean snapped back but he didn't move. Instead, she felt far too aware of his arms and where they had come up around her without touching her. She opened her mouth to tell him off, that he was totally invading the personal bubble space but nothing came out. Instead, she blinked really hard, staring up at him, caught in what had to be some crazy time loop where she was way too focused on his chest being... hard and sexy and his eyes getting slightly darker as he stared down at her. She didn't miss the way his lips quirked at her before stepping back and moving around him.

"Just..." Buffy didn't finish her thought as she made her way towards the bank of elevators. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw him watching her walk away and she blushed furiously before turning and practically shoving the call button for the elevator right through the wall.

Oh, boy. Definitely screwed the pooch on missing that flight.

Buffy held her duffel bag tightly as she stared at the elevator doors, not liking the way her body had reacted to him, not liking that he was a gorgeous guy and not liking that she was pretty close to rationalizing the idea of taking him up on the offer to stay in her room. It had been such a long time...

No, no, Buffy wasn't that girl. She wasn't that kind of girl who ran into random dudes and shacked up with them for a night before both going their merry ways. It didn't matter how many times Faith tried to romanticize it, she was not that girl...

The door finally swung open with a loud beep and Buffy couldn't help herself when she glanced over her shoulder to see what he was doing and saw that he was staring at her just as hard as if he were right next to her… as he slipped his hand up her shirt... She felt her body reacting as if he really were doing it and Buffy regretted ever taking this damn trip.

He was not cute.

He was a ballsy, annoying hunter and that was it.

She wanted nothing to do with him.

No, no, no…

Oh, boy.

* * *

Dean didn't take his eyes off of her after her scathing glance back at him. Instead, he watched her swing that little ass of hers tightly encased in some black jeans that basically said, 'Please peel me off with your teeth,' as she pushed the elevator button a few times. He cocked his head, licking his lips as she adjusted her jacket, running a hand down her face and jumping a little when the bell for the elevator dinged.

"Oh, my..." he whispered in amusement, his body already hot and bothered when she once again looked back at him before disappearing into the elevator. He didn't miss the heat in her eyes before she gaped at him and hit the button for her floor. He chuckled as he turned to the manager who was giving him something resembling the evil eye. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, shrugging. Dean frowned at her.

"Uh, one bed, please. For one night." Dean glanced once more at the closed elevator doors and he kind of wished he had gotten a sneak peek at her room key before dismissing the idea. He had barely touched her and she had been ready to toss him through the wall.

Imagine her reaction if he actually knocked on her door, showing her a fistful of condoms and asking her to show him how limber a Slayer really was...

"$59.68," the manager snapped off and Dean nodded, handing her his handy credit card, under the name Hoover D. Randeloff. She glanced at it before turning to run it.

Dean Winchester had always wondered what a Slayer was, from the moment he had heard his dad first mention it to the blurbs his father wrote about in his journal, the few times he let Dean read it.

An actual Slayer. Rather, the actual Slayer. The lore held that only one girl in her generation was "called" to be a fighter of evil or some such nonsense. Interesting how the world still needed more than a few humans to help herd said evil - either they didn't actually exist or they had been doing a really shitty job.

John Winchester sure believed they existed though, Dean mused as he signed off on his receipt and took his room key. He could see it perfectly clear in his mind's eye as he made his way towards the elevators the words, "Are they human?" in his dad's heavy writing, underlined multiple times in the journal.

Dean licked his lips, raising an eyebrow in appreciation as he remembered watching little Buffy in action. She sure looked human, she sure felt human and she sure probably tasted human despite how quickly and efficiently she had finished off her set of vamps. He chuckled at himself, shaking his head as he tried to remember that his father thought they weren't exactly human but... Hell, she _had_ jumped in the air and kicked one of the baddies clear across the little clearing they had been in. She definitely had something more than sexy up her sleeve.

But Dean also usually had a pretty good sense about these things, about the things that go bump in the night, sort of a sixth sense that tingled. He didn't get that with her... although it was probably hindered by the fact that he was more concentrating on that low cut tank top she had on and those tight little jeans and the way her collarbone curved and the way her neck probably felt under his tongue and...

The elevator dinged open again and Dean stepped in, hitting the button for his floor. Oh yeah, it was probably best that their interactions stopped at this. Although the next time someone came barreling into his hunt like that, he was going to make sure heads rolled.

And if he was lucky enough to run into Buffy again, he would make sure to check her out - thoroughly - to make sure he knew exactly what a Slayer was.

Dean licked his lips as he got off on his floor, looking around, hoping that maybe they were on the same floor and she was having trouble opening her door and she needed another bed to sleep in... No such luck.

Looked like a night of Dean-time and cold showers.

* * *

The sun was barely glancing over the horizon as Buffy stood before the shoddy little table in the lobby of the motel, looking down at what the place called 'Continental Breakfast.' She should be grateful that the place included pasty pastries and warm orange juice and weak coffee in her stay but for the amount they charged and for the crappy state of the room, she could at least get some fruit or something.

Making a face as she picked up a jelly donut, Buffy plopped it onto her plate and was moving to grab a cup of coffee when somebody stepped up and snatched the pot away first.

"Uh, hello," she started, turning to glare at her coffee thief before letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh. You."

Dean smiled at her. "And you."

"I was here first," Buffy said simply, staring at the pot in his hands and Dean held it up. There was just enough for one cup.

"Well, you know what they say, princess," he said, snagging a cup. "Finder's keepers."

"Finder's keepers?" Buffy replied, leaning on the table. "Did you never actually leave grade school?" Dean had his mouth open to respond but Buffy didn't let him. "Oh, wait, let me guess. You didn't even graduate, did you?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Golly, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." And then he smirked. "Woulda been a whole lot better if you'd let me, uh..." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Relax those tense shoulders for you."

"You're a pig."

Dean made a self-satisfied face at her before taking a sip of his stolen coffee. The look of disgust on his face was enough to make Buffy feel better and she smirked at him as his phone rang in his pocket. He snagged it out, giving Buffy a patient look and saying, "Excuse me, duty calls."

"Oh, yeah," Buffy mused, "You go do that duty." Dean made a face at her words as he answered his phone.

"Hello?"

"Dean." It was his father.

"Dad, hey."

"The nest?"

"Exterminated," Dean said with flourish, glancing over his shoulder to see what his spontaneous hunting partner was up to. She was fiddling with one of the covered portions of food while holding her plate and not being too successful. "Cleaned out."

"Good," John Winchester said over the phone and Dean threw away his coffee. "No trouble?"

Dean once more glanced at Buffy and saw her spooning through the scrambled eggs that looked like they had been cooked at two that morning. And yeah, no need to explain the 'hiccup' because it hadn't actually led to trouble. "Nope. No trouble."

"Good. Look, I've got a lead on a possible werewolf in Tennessee that I'm on my way to check out. Are you good to follow up on that demonic possession alone?"

"Oh yeah, I'm good." Dean pierced his lips as he bit his tongue, ignoring the feeling of pride that his father was actually letting him handle a few cases on his own without having a mini-freakout attack. He _was_ freaking 25 already.

"Good. Well... be careful."

"Yeah, you too. Uh, call me if you get some action."

John didn't bother responding before hanging up and Dean glanced at his open phone before shutting it down. Shrugging in his leather jacket, he fingered the keys in his pocket, seeing that the check-in counter was once again empty. He actually could go right back upstairs and catch a few more hours of sleep now that he knew he was on his own for the next case but he was already feeling a little wired.

Dean looked back and saw that Buffy was sitting down, eating her donut. He bit his tongue as he watched her lick her fingers of the glaze, her little lips sucking her fingers in and thinking about what her tongue was doing, twirling and sucking… suddenly his pants were feeling a little too tight. She looked up right as he was staring at her and she rolled her eyes, grabbing a napkin and he didn't feel an ounce of shame.

"You know," he said, striding over and pulling out a chair at her table, not even thinking about the words tumbling from his mouth. Not caring that his dad would have his hide if he knew that he was talking about the business with someone other than him. Or Sammy, but Sam hadn't been in the game for years now. And much less a real, live action Slayer - Dean could just imagine the death glare his father already had brewing…

He didn't think of any of that - he just saw a pretty girl who knew how to hit things. And who looked sexy as all get-out while doing it and who didn't seem so bad in his book. He ignored her pointed look as he sat down across from her. "That offer's still open."

"Oh, you mean the one where you spontaneously disappear? Then yes, I accept."

"You're just full of zany things to say, aren't you?"

"When people rub me the wrong way, yes."

"Oh, sweetheart, trust me when I say I'm sure I could rub you the right way."

"I'm pretty sure I could go to the police right now and tell them that 80% of the crap that has come out of your mouth since I met you is you sexually assaulting me."

Dean playfully pouted at her and he didn't miss the ghost of an amused smile before she erased it. But he had seen it. "That wouldn't be very nice." Buffy shrugged. "I meant giving you a ride. If you need one."

"I already said I'm fine."

"Okay, cool, I don't need to be told twice."

"Apparently you do."

"I'm just saying, the cable around here consists of about six channels, the beds are crappy and the water stains on the ceilings aren't even in fun designs." He cocked his head. "I drive fast so you won't have to worry about being stuck in the car with me for too long."

"No." Buffy pushed her plate away. "But thank you."

Dean shrugged, ignoring the flood of disappointment through his chest. Although honestly, what was he expecting? Her to bend over and say, 'Yes, please, more?' Hardly. "Alright, cool. I guess, uh... I'll see you around or something."

"Yep. See you around."

Dean didn't move for a split second, his eyes trained on Buffy and she returned the look. But goddamn, she was a sexy fucking woman. Her hair was down this morning, recently washed and she was wearing some peasant top thing that flowed around her in very nice ways. It also showed off her shoulders and more of that delectable collarbone which was a great deal more eye candy on her than he had assumed he would ever get. But not more than he had wished for.

He wished there was a way he could ask her to kindly sit on the table right in front of him, sans pants, but that would probably be pushing things.

"Right. See ya," he said with a grin before standing and walking away without looking back.

* * *

Buffy watched him walk away, biting the inside of her cheek. Did he have to be so brazenly pushy? She was pretty sure she had perfected the steely look of doom when it came to guys since she had taken to traveling alone and she was pretty sure she had been pushing it on him pretty steady since he stole the last of the coffee. The large picture windows were already awash in sunlight as he tapped the bell at the counter, summoning the manager and he checked out.

Buffy didn't hide the fact that she was staring at him as he swept through the motel doors, heading straight for a huge black monster of a vehicle. With a sigh, Buffy shook her head, clearing her thoughts as she stood and stretched. She took her plate to the trash can, grabbed her bag and headed towards the exit herself.

She had been awake since three that morning after a night of fitful, hot dreams that left her wanting to shred the piece of cloth the motel called a blanket before getting up and taking a run around the block a few times, trying to beat the painful awareness of just how long it had been since she had gotten anything resembling sex and how close this random guy was to her, even if he was multiple rooms away. It was enough to get her mind overloaded and her blood pumping in wild, uneven ways… ways she hadn't felt in a long, long time and ways that were feeling way, way too good.

And ways that were bad, very bad. Very bad thoughts about the annoying stranger…

She had checked out as soon as she could and was planning on just wandering around the little town until her flight time arrived but that idea quickly lost its luster when she noted that a half hour took what felt like four hours to eke by.

It had all seemed like an amazing idea the night before when she had spent a few minutes staring at the water stains on her ceiling. Dean was right - they weren't even fun designs.

Buffy gnawed on her bottom lip, squinting against the morning sun as it rose in the sky. She took a deep breath, looking around, realizing that nothing was probably even open when she heard the loud growl of Dean's car start up across the parking lot. She just stood there stupidly, crossing her arms and looking at everything but the car. She watched him back up from her peripheral but the car didn't move again.

She could feel his gaze on her and glanced at him and saw him watching her with an amused smile. She rolled her eyes at him and he cocked his head, like they were having a conversation of the non-verbal kind.

'You can tag along.'

'I don't wanna.'

'Yeah, cause standing there like that for another twelve hours sounds like the best time ever.'

'Bite me.'

'I'd like to.'

Buffy licked her lips and stepped into the road, towards the car. She leaned over slightly.

"Maybe..." she said and Dean smiled. "Maybe I could use a ride."

Dean let off a full blown grin as he leaned over to unlock the passenger side door. "Well, hop on in, princess."

Buffy felt that little spark in the pit of her stomach known as rage as she walked around the car and got in.

"Stop calling me that," she said in an even, menacing tone. Dean just smirked, not responding, before slipping the Impala into drive and taking off. He sure as hell wanted to do more than call her princess...

* * *

_Present_

"This is the fourth time in a row. You'd think you'd get the hint of my not answering the phone that I don't want to talk to you."

She could practically hear his smirk on the other end and for the first time since she and Faith had set foot in the sewers below Las Vegas, Buffy was happy to be down there - the reception was crappy.

"You'd think with how many demons want to eat your brains, you'd change your phone number every once in a while."

"Well, I'm not the one who hands my number out like it's candy and oh, yeah, I'm also not the one who steals credit cards and people's identities to make ends meet so I really don't need to do that."

"Oh, catty," Dean replied from the other side and Buffy took a deep breath, ignoring the amused look she was getting from her sister Slayer. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"What do you want?"

"I want to know what your witchy friend found out. We've got bupkiss over here."

"I said I'd call when I had something," Buffy said through gritted teeth. She glanced at Faith, narrowing her eyes when she saw her on the verge of a chuckle. Letting out an aggravated sigh, she pushed on through the sewer tunnels. She shook out her free hand that held the stake, trying to get rid of the fine tremor she had felt underneath her skin since this morning. She clenched her fist around the sharpened wood and she swore she heard it cracking. "I'm kinda busy over here."

"Busy?" Dean mocked. "Busy doing what? I would think this would rush to the top of your priority list, Summers, or were you really just jonesing for another taste?"

"God, you're such a pig."

"You like it."

Buffy suddenly stopped, whipping around to face the sewer wall, clenching her jaw. She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to tell Dean exactly where his ass could go until she had any need of him again. Which would be never. Because never was safer and saner and everything else that was nice and not involving Dean Winchester.

Because safer meant she didn't have to deal with the hurricane of thoughts and feelings that brushed through her every time she even thought about him, much less each time he made a sound in her vicinity.

It was easier. It had been easier for the last two years until the jackass came stomping through her life all over again.

"I'll call you when I find something," was all she said before snapping her phone shut. She shoved it into her back pocket, taking another deep breath before pulling her fist back and punching the stone wall before her. Her knuckles immediately screamed with pain, the skin over them ripping open as she repeated the punch, letting out a sharp yell, releasing the frustration that had been simmering in her stomach since he had started incessantly calling her that afternoon.

"Whoa, B," Faith said from behind and Buffy turned back to her, breathing hard as she brushed her hair out of her face. A tense moment passed before Buffy shrugged.

"I'm good," she replied lightly before moving on.

"Right. I can see that."

"Dean just..." Buffy let out a frustrated noise, making a clawed circle in front of her face as she imitated strangling something. Or someone. "I just really want to... hurt him."

"Okay," Faith said slowly, matching Buffy's steps as they moved slowly below the city. A rush of filthy sewer water ran between them, looking green and pitch black at the same time. She peeked around a mild bend before continuing, seeing nothing. "You know, this is the part of the story where you tell me... well, you tell me the story."

"You already know what happened this morning."

"Yeah," Faith said with a snort. "And it was amusing as hell. But I mean The Story. What happened with you guys, B?"

Buffy took a deep breath, her throat feeling dry as she shook her head. "It's a long… story."

"Well we've got miles of sewer to check here, baby doll. Give me a little amusement... please."

"We should concentrate on finding Victoria."

"B, I'm sure this kid is just holing it up somewhere with a bunch of other bums and has no idea what's happening to her. G said she was homeless, right?" Faith shrugged. "We should be checking freaking halfway houses or something. I doubt she's running around, asking strangers if she can punch them to see how far they can go…"

At the mention of Giles, Buffy felt a cold chill fall down her spine and she shook it off. She didn't want to think any longer than she had to about Giles and what he was probably doing right now. Which was pacing in his library, cleaning his glasses and murmuring, "Bloody moron," over and over again. Especially after she refused to talk to him, listening in on Faith trying to answer the questions he hurled through the air like hot lava. She wasn't really sure herself if everything that was happening was real or not - she was still stuck between a sort of foggy dream world and reality in which the only question floating around in her head was 'Oh, my fucking god, is this real?'

The very concept of being married was enough for Buffy to run in the opposite direction but married to Dean Winchester? Seriously, of all the people in the world she happened to randomly run into, it had to be him. She was definitely not in the favor of the gods if the last day was any indication. She would rather have woken up to an already married man who happened to have herpes than her current husband.

Husband. Oh, god. Buffy rubbed her forehead very hard and Faith raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, spit it out, B. Let's do this... girly... talk thing."

"Faith..."

"I know I'm not your best bud Willow but I can see you are freaking the hell out over there. And the last thing I want is a Buffy Timebomb."

"It's not that," Buffy said softly. She waved her hands. "If anything, I think you'd understand better than anyone."

Faith just shot her a half smile, not betraying the fact that the words made her feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. She knew she was the last person on the face of the earth that Buffy probably wanted to spill her guts to and she knew that it was probably better that way. She and B hadn't exactly always been on the best terms when it came to sharing everything and anything but things had also changed... minutely. She had started to trust Buffy with more than her life and she liked that Buffy was sort of, kind of doing the same thing.

Warm fuzzies and all that.

Faith cleared her throat. "So spill."

"There's really not much to tell," Buffy said, backtracking slightly and Faith snorted.

"Bullshit."

"Okay," Buffy said, nodding amiably. "I would agree that bullshit and Dean Winchester do belong in the same sentence together." Faith just chuckled but didn't reply and Buffy let out an agitated breath. "Honestly, I don't even know what happened between us."

"Meaning..."

"Meaning... he was just a guy... A guy who happened to be really pretty and really good at hunting and also really good at talking his way into my pants while simultaneously pissing me off so bad that I wanted to beat the crap out of him."

"Sounds like... not your kind of goody-two-shoes guy."

"Exactly!" Buffy said, using her hands as emphasis. "He's the exact opposite of the guy that I should be with. He curses, he drinks, he has the wonderful ability to be a skeeze and I mean... I... I don't know."

"It sounds like he got under your skin."

Buffy sighed, shaking her head. "Yeah." And everything and more before ending in a huge blowup of serious epic proportions. "I mean... it was like... Spike, a little." Faith raised her eyebrow. "Before he got a soul. After I got back from Heaven. And I also wasn't hating myself while we had angry sex."

Faith smirked. "God, B, with a body like his, who could blame you?"

Buffy chuckled. "Very few people, I'm sure." She made a face. "Except Xander. And Willow." She waved her hands again. "Anyway, real life got in the way and it just wasn't gonna happen."

"Real life?" Faith flipped her stake in the air, catching it expertly. "Real life being he met your real life?"

"You know... honestly, I really don't know what happened. It was like..." Buffy furrowed her brow as she tried to find the words to summarize whatever she had had with Dean and what it meant. "It was like we were just using each other for sex but then suddenly... it wasn't just sex. And suddenly I was telling him things and he was telling me things and it was like we were a really, really deformed kind of... couple. Or whatever."

Faith turned to look at her sister Slayer. "Foreboding look, B. That's never a good look on you."

"I'm just..." Buffy bit the inside of her lower lip. "It was like... it was like he made me feel like I did with Spike when he wasn't all… soul-having, like I could be... dark and angry and... over the top but I didn't... hate it, like I did with Spike. I felt so dirty after I came back from Heaven and Spike kind of fed that..." Buffy waved her hands. "Not to say I still feel that way about Spike. He's definitely not… an evil-dirty-feeling-feeder." Buffy shook her head at her words. "You know what I mean. But Dean, he made me feel like it was okay to be both the good me and the bad me… I don't know. He made me feel good about it. You know?"

Faith cocked an eyebrow at her. "It sounds to me like you did get a little closer with that Slayer side of yours. Good times."

Buffy frowned. "I guess."

"And let me guess," Faith mused. "You fell 'in love' with him?"

Buffy scoffed at the words. Love? "If you can even call it that."

Suddenly a shrill ring tone cut into Buffy's story and she let out an aggravated growl as she pulled out her phone, recognizing the number on the screen. "Stupid jackass, I said I would call him. What is he doing, just laying around, thinking about ways to make me want to kill him more than I do now?"

Faith couldn't hold back her laughter as Buffy answered the phone, at the instant switch in Buffy's demeanor. She had seen more shades of Buffy over the last several hours than she remembered seeing since she had met the blonde. One thing was for sure, this Dean fella definitely knew how to get under her skin. And if Faith wasn't mistaken, Buffy liked it.

A lot.

"What?" Buffy barked into the phone.

"You know," Dean said on the other side. "Maybe you should try being nicer to the guy you probably hogtied into marrying you, huh?"

"Oh, please," Buffy sneered. "If anything, you were the one who-"

Buffy trailed off as something in front of them in the distance stepped into a shaft of light coming from the street above them. It was far off enough that if she had been anything but the Slayer, she would have missed it. She glanced at Faith and saw she had seen it too. Something trying to be lurky. Which mean slay time. Which also meant fun time.

The adrenaline in Buffy's body suddenly roared through her and she found she needed to take a deep breath to keep her composure as the tremble in her body picked up, feeling like a strong hum in her bones. That was going to get old super quick.

"The one who what, Buffy?" Dean growled on the other side and Buffy snapped back to the present moment, the thing that had moved through the light melting back into the shadows.

"Dean, I gotta go."

"Uh, no, I don't think so..." Buffy didn't hear the rest as she pulled the phone away from her ear, forgetting its presence as she cocked her head, studying the shadows ahead of them. Nothing moved again and she and Faith both pulled to a dead stop. She glanced at her and Faith returned the look.

"Vampire?" Faith asked loudly, theatrically and Buffy shrugged, going along with the charade.

"Hopefully. You'd think in a town this big and colorful, at least one Elvis vampire would be hanging around."

"I don't know, B," Faith continued, her voice echoing in the sewer. "Maybe we got ourselves a little Marilyn."

"Monroe or Manson?"

Faith snorted. "Kinda prefer Manson. Be more party-hardy."

A splash of water as someone stepped into the running stream of under-city goo and then a few more steps from behind that one.

"Looks like more than one wants to play today, huh?" Faith asked, slipping into a fighter stance as the creatures suddenly pulled away from the shadows and moved towards them. Buffy mimicked her, stuffing her phone in her back pocket without thinking, leaving it open and leaving Dean hanging. His question about what the hell her problem was got lost in the moment.

"Guess so," Buffy mused, clenching her fists, liking the way the bones in her fingers cracked, getting limber. Getting ready for a fight. And damn, did she want to fight. She had more than enough pent-up frustration to go around for everyone and beating the living hell out of a few vamps would hopefully level her out. It sounded... delicious and her knuckles ached to connect with some dead flesh.

"Looks like we get three for the price of one, boys," a voice drawled from the shadows and Buffy and Faith glanced at each other as the person stepped into another shaft of light. Buffy frowned at the man, wearing a rumpled business suit, his head cocked. And then she saw them - his eyes. They were pitch black, through and through, and the grin he wore was close to maniacal. But what made it worse was the face wasn't made for that smile - it looked forced, unnatural, the skin bending in ways it wasn't used to… like evil had settled down in the cracks and had taken over.

"Uh oh," she whispered.

"What?" Faith whispered back. "What's up with his eyes?"

"Faith," Buffy started, clenching her stake. "These are human beings possessed by demons."

"What?"

"Not now," Buffy snapped, ignoring her question. "We can't... Faith, we can't hurt these people without killing them."

Faith shot her a long sideways look. "So what the hell, B? You wanna run?"

"You gals aren't real smooth with the secret talk," the demon said again, taking another step forward and Buffy saw three others behind him, all shrouded in the darkness of the sewer. But all probably just as equally possessed. Not good. So very not good. The first possessed human she had ever encountered had been with Dean and she had gotten a rude awakening about the life of demons away from a Hellmouth.

Hellmouths had the tendency to bring out the worst in demons. Not only did it draw them there like moths to a flame, it brought out their true visages and forced them to take corporeal form - something she had never even conceptualized. Talking to Giles about that one had been a fun ride. Even little hot spots in places where there had never been a Hellmouth brought out a demon's true form. The farther from a Hellmouth or a hot spot demons ventured, the easier it was for them to take on creepy, smoky form which allowed them to possess humans. And thus, allowed them to walk among humans like it was another day in paradise and thus easier to fly under her Slayer Radar.

Buffy swallowed uneasily, remembering another possessed human she had accidentally killed before Dean was able to exorcize it. And how very un-good she had felt after it happened.

This was bad. What were so many demons doing, flocked together, in the sewers at the same time as she and Faith? Definitely not spelunking.

"Buffy, talk to me," Faith said but the demon did the talking for her.

"Oh, yes, please, _Buffy_," he said, his voice cracking with glee. "Please do continue to talk about how you just can't kill these poor little meat suits that feel so darn good..." Faith flashed Buffy a look. "And how oh so easily we can hurt you."

"What?" Faith said but that was all she had time for as the demon lifted his hands and flung her and Buffy against opposite walls with a sickening crunch. Buffy swore over the sound of her body ramming into the stone wall she heard something in Faith crack. She tried to fight against the invisible force holding her to the wall but she didn't get a chance as the demon once more lifted his hands, that same grin on his face, pulling them off the wall and slamming them once more into the stone before letting them fall limply to the ground.

"Gotta say," the demon drawled, taking another step forward. "This is just too good to be true."

Buffy looked up, tasting the coppery metal of blood on her tongue, and saw Faith was unconscious across from her.

"No," she moaned, pushing herself to a standing position. She shook her head, ignoring the stabbing pains in her neck that radiated down her spine as she fell back into a defensive position. "You really shouldn't have done that."

The demon smirked but Buffy moved quicker than he could as she lifted her stake and flung it across the space, embedding it in the man's neck. Buffy knew it wouldn't stop him but it was enough for him to forget that he had his crazy psychic powers for a moment as the others stepped forward. She ignored the wrench in her abdomen as she thought about the man she had just killed. A man who had a family, a life... and now he was dead.

Because of her.

Buffy let out a shout as she punched one of the demons in the jaw, grabbed the hair of another and threw her to the side before side kicking the other demon.

Her mind was already racing through what she had to do - incapacitate them enough so she could grab Faith and make a run for it. She had no idea what Latin gibberish she needed to get these demons out of these humans and she didn't really have time to call for the help she knew she needed. Faith was out of the picture and she was left with four humans who had no idea what was happening to them and who also were pretty unkillable while a demon inhabited them. But that didn't mean they wouldn't feel everything she did to them in the meantime.

For the first time in a long time, she wished Dean was there.

Buffy felt the hot caress of human blood on her fist as she connected with one of their faces and she ignored the guilt raging through her body as she clenched her teeth, grabbing another and throwing him into the supposed leader. They both tumbled to the ground and Buffy took the opportunity to connect the heads of the two remaining before grabbing Faith's arm where she laid on the ground, pulling her unconscious body up with an angry growl and trying to pull her over her shoulder fireman style but she didn't do it in enough time.

She felt the shattering pain of someone's balled fists ramming into the back of her neck with inhuman strength and she dropped her sister Slayer to the ground, in the filthy water, as she fell on her back in a daze.

"Now, now, Slayer," the lead demon crooned. "You can't just run off and leave us hanging..."

Buffy had enough time to open her eyes and watch through a red haze as the demons surrounded her.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: This has quickly become my guilty pleasure fic. In whatever sense that happens to be coming through, just know that this is my guilty pleasure fic and I might be doing weird things with it. :D

**Chapter Four**

"Wait... he did _what_?"

Sam sighed uneasily, rolling his eyes to where Dean sat on one of the beds. He was leaning back against the headboard, keeping up a constant rhythm of banging his head against the wall, his body tense, waiting for a fight. His muddy boots had left angry smears all over the comforter where he crossed his legs; he looked like he was trying to make himself comfortable but failing miserably.

He wondered for a moment if Dean was going to break his jaw with how tightly he was gritting his teeth, spitting and snarling at something Sam couldn't see.

"Yeah," he breathed into the phone.

There was a long pause. "I hope you're joking."

"I wish I was."

"Are you… kidding me? That friggin' boy..." Sam raised an eyebrow as Bobby paused again. "Okay, Sam, let me…"

He heard the older man taking a deep breath over the phone. He could hear the whiskers of his beard rubbing roughly against his palm when he ran a hand over his face. It was worrying. Hell, the entire situation was worrying.

"So, Dean is cursed..." Bobby started slowly.

"Yeah," Sam continued, nodding, looking up when he heard the little bleeps of Dean pounding on the buttons of his phone before lifting it to his ear again. Sam narrowed his eyes in annoyance. He wanted to smack the damn thing away from him, put him out of his misery - hell, put this girl out of her misery because he was sure she was sick of hearing from him based on Dean's side of the conversation - but then that would turn the fire on him. And he just didn't have the brotherly energy to put up with the roller coaster of crazy he had turned into - he went from angry to freaking out to sad to terrified all in the space of twenty seconds before starting it all over again.

Sam turned back to his laptop, rubbing his eyes. It was exhausting just to watch.

"Oh, catty," he heard Dean say in response to something his wife said and Sam tuned him out. Dean had a wife… He still couldn't wrap his head around it.

"Sam, I've never heard of any kinda curse like that. I mean, it would make sense if the people were _already_ married but I've never heard of a curse where you're forced into marriage." Sam could imagine Bobby's face as he asked, "Are you sure that's what happened?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Dean says he doesn't remember anything."

"He _woke up_ married?" The incredulous tone in Bobby's voice was borderline comical and Sam couldn't hold back his grin. "Son, you sure your jackass brother didn't just get married like a drunken moron?"

"I thought that's what happened too, Bobby, but the ring won't come off," Sam replied. "I tried. He's tried. He almost pulled his knife out a few minutes ago, wanting to cut it off."

"Freaking idjit, I can't even believe this… your daddy would be…" Bobby trailed off and Sam bit his tongue, ignoring the punch of emotional heaviness that suddenly walloped through his chest. He nodded even though Bobby couldn't see him, his mind unwillingly summoning the would-be image of John and Dean while his eldest son told him he had gotten married. To some woman that he had told nobody about and who happened to know everything about what Dean did when it got dark. He could see perfectly his father's eyes narrowing, his face getting darker with anger and… Sam shook the image away, blinking away the tears.

It had already been a few months but the sting of his father's death - the way he had died - wasn't getting any better.

"Alright," Bobby continued. "Let me take a look around here and see what I can find. And tell that boy to get his damn story straight."

Sam chuckled. "I will."

"And be careful, Sam. I mean…" Sam could practically see Bobby in mid-pause and he nodded again.

"I know. I thought about it too, this being something a little more… demon-heavy."

"Yeah," was all Bobby replied.

"We will. Just, uh… let us know what you find, huh?"

"I will."

"Thanks, Bobby." He heard Bobby saying something like, "Uh-huh," in a sarcastic voice before hanging up and Sam smiled. He felt better knowing that Bobby was there, helping. That he was there for them to call and there for them to turn to. It was… comforting.

"Goddamn woman!" Dean snapped at his phone. Sam turned and watched him volt off the bed with too much energy, almost falling over from the momentum before throwing the phone back on the bed where it almost bounced onto the floor.

"Maybe you should stop calling her?" Sam said with a twinge of sarcasm and he made an innocent face when Dean turned his fiery gaze on him. "Just a suggestion."

"I can't stop calling her!" he snapped, not taking a breath as he continued, "We're married. Jesus, I'm her husband, she could at least have a freaking conversation with me! Oh god, I don't even know what I'm saying."

Sam snickered.

Dean held up a hand towards him, his mouth tightening into a thin white line. "Don't start, Sam." Sam shook his head in amusement and Dean's hand turned into a fist. "Did Bobby say anything?"

"Uh, you mean after calling you every name he could think of in the space of a few minutes? No." Sam shook his head, turning back to his laptop while Dean started pacing again. "Same thing as us. He has not heard of a curse where you wake up magically married." Dean snorted. "But he's looking."

"Did you tell him the ring doesn't come off?" Dean demanded.

"Yes."

"And…" Sam glanced over his shoulder and saw the wild look back in his brother's eye and he could see he was back in the freaking out swing.

Sam turned to give him an exasperated look. "Dude, calm down. We're looking. You're freaking out and I get that but you're really starting to annoy me so just… just calm down."

Dean actually snarled at his brother and Sam ignored him. He picked up the annulment pages he had printed off and held them above his head. "Do you want to check these out?"

"I don't think signing a bunch of stupid papers will solve the whole 'curse' problem, Sam!"

"Well, it's possible you are also married according to the State of Nevada. That _is_ something we can take care and maybe you should. You know, what with you being a wanted fugitive and all." Dean made a stressed noise, waving his hands in the air. Sam typed in a few different words into his search engine as he asked, "Did you guys get a marriage certificate?"

"What?" Dean asked absently. "What? No. I was…" Dean paused and Sam glanced back at him. And then he laughed when he saw Dean blush. Dean was actually blushing, and when he saw his brother watching him, his face turned redder. "Stop it, stop staring at me!"

"You're blushing," Sam said and Dean turned his back on him.

"Sam…"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Sam said. "Man, this girl did a number on you. Hey, you know, it would probably be helpful knowing a little more about her…"

Dean paused, working his jaw back and forth. He knew it probably would help. Buffy was the Slayer. Or, a Slayer, since she had done her little share-the-power dance. But she was still a Slayer which meant she was still something that wasn't exactly… natural. More supernatural and since this had quickly turned into something so supernatural it made Dean want to hurl up every ounce of food he had tasted within the last week, he should probably mention that little tidbit to Sam.

But he didn't want to. And he couldn't exactly explain why. He was… scared. Or worried. Probably more worried, Dean decided, as he picked up his pacing again. He ignored Sam's hints as his thoughts tumbled through his head. He knew with every ounce of his being that Buffy wasn't a bad guy. She wasn't everything that his father had always insisted a Slayer was which was evil. John Winchester was not one for seeing the shades of grey and all the gods in the goddamn sky knew that Slayers lived in the shades of grey...

Logically, he knew Sam would probably be the first one to understand something like this. And he knew that he was being an idiot by not telling him but, damn it, he couldn't help it… he wanted to protect her. His dad had raised his sons to be cautious of everything - _everything_ - and thanks to the crazy elder Winchester that included his own damn son.

Despite the whole Sam situation and being weary of his every move and action, especially after the Croatoan virus and the Gordon crap… he couldn't bring himself to admit that he had fallen for a Vampire Slayer and that he had wanted things with her and wanted to do things with her and to her and… and in the end, just live in a world that constantly included her, in whatever capacity that happened to be in.

He just couldn't do it. He couldn't get the word vomit to come up when he knew he should but it was like his jaw was wired shut when it came to talking about anything Buffy-related. He had buried it all so well and so deep that instead of having an actual conversation about her, it erupted at random times like a Fountain of Crazy.

It simultaneously pissed him off and freaked him out all over again. Dean would be the first one to admit that he hadn't been looking for anything resembling a relationship when he met Buffy Summers - hell, any relationship period. But he had found her sexy as hell and had been the first one to suggest jumping in the sack together. He liked girls. Girls liked him, end of story. And eventually, she had finally done just that. But then… something shifted. It changed. He started paying more attention to not only the way she walked but the way her hair looked or the way her eyes caught a sparkle when he really made her laugh. Or the little crinkles between her eyebrows when she looked ready to shove her fist through his stomach.

The way she enraged him so much when she pulled her superiority crap on him and the way he shoved her right back out of the way. The way they went from having a decent conversation to arguing in less than one minute and the way they sexed up everywhere they happened to touch down. The way he couldn't help himself around her - like when she smiled, he wanted to smile. When she ordered bacon, he took most of the pieces himself. They became freakishly intimate.

But they never talked about it. He never brought it up and he never knew if she noticed anything weird with him or how he was acting. And then the whole blood transfusion thing happened and then everything that went down in Cleveland… It got heavy, too heavy, and he freaked and then she freaked and then they went their separate ways, Dean with a lot more regret and guilt, mostly surrounding the fact of her existence at all. Freaking blood and freaking people bursting the freaking bubble.

And yet it felt like things had picked up right where they left off, like he was strapped back in the stupid ride that was his relationship with her, where everything was up in the air and confusing and worrying and full of so much fire and passion… there was a reason he had put himself back on the No Shades of Grey train when it came to women.

Buffy had completely ruined him.

And because she had completely ruined him, he had pushed all of this crap so far down that the longer he stayed in any way connected with her, the more it burst through the seams. At first, it was nice and easy to ignore the fact that he still had some feelings for her - he did have two years of practice. But then... then the marriage thing and then the goddamn rings didn't come off and she was still the only thing he could think about…

How he wished it had been any other woman on the entire planet. Christ, a strange albino hippie would be heaven right now...

"How'd you guys meet?"

Dean ignored him. Instead he picked up his phone again, whipped it open and hit redial.

"What?" he heard Buffy growl on the other side of the phone and Dean's face got tight as he glared a hole in the wall at her tone. Like _he_ was the one inconveniencing her, like _he_ was the one causing problems…

"You know, maybe you should try being nicer to the guy you probably hogtied into marrying you, huh?" he growled right back and he heard her scoff on the other side. He heard a slight, close echo and the faint sound of rushing water and he wondered for the umpteenth time what the hell she was doing and where the hell she was and why the hell she wasn't turning the entire world upside down to get unmarried to him. It felt like she wanted to prolong this horrible, terrifying… deliciously good torture.

Dean closed his eyes as his thoughts got ahead of him. Not delicious. Bad. This was all horribly fucking awful bad.

Holy mother of hell, he had to get a handle on this crap.

"Oh, please," she snapped on the other side and Dean felt his jaw getting tighter, feeling like grinding his teeth into powder. "If anything, you were the one who-"

And then she stopped and Dean let out an expectant whoosh of air, waving his hand in the air. "The one who what, Buffy?"

"Dean," she said, her voice distracted, "I gotta go."

"Uh, no, I don't think so," Dean said smoothly. He put a smirk on his lips, hoping she could hear his disdain through the line. "That pretty little ass of yours isn't getting rid of me that easily."

Dean frowned into the phone as he heard muffled voices from the other side. "Buffy?" Nothing. Cocking his head, he tried to listen and heard his wife's musical - no, not musical. Very unmusical. More like nails on a chalkboard - voice and another female talking about vampires. Dean raised his eyebrows. Right, Vampire Slayer. And it sounded like that Faith chick - who he would have hit on in three seconds flat had he not been married to her wench of a friend - was one too, although her manhandling of him earlier should have been an indication…

The things you learn about a person. Might have been a nice introduction piece: "This is Faith, my sister Vampire Slayer." Was there even a thing called respect anymore?

Dean rolled his eyes at himself. Off fucking topic.

There was silence again on the other end. Dean bit the tip of his tongue. "Buffy, what the hell is your problem?" he snarled into the phone but all he got in response were some scratchy noises. "Buffy!"

Nothing.

"Buffy, I swear to god, if you are…"

A few more faint sounds came through before he heard her talking again. And her words were like an ice cold course of fear through his veins. He didn't see Sam watching him. He didn't realize he had stopped moving, that he was digging his thigh into the corner of a table, that he had stopped breathing… His chest constricted with alarm as he heard her say, "Faith, these are human beings possessed by demons."

His heart started racing as he blinked, whispering, "Oh, crap."

"What?" he heard Sam ask but he waved his arm in his face to shut him up. He could hear more talking, Buffy saying something but he couldn't make it out. There was someone else with them but they were too far away for him to hear - it was like trying to make sense of freaking white noise. "Dean?"

"Shut up, Sam," he hissed in response, closing his eyes to concentrate. Before he could make anything else out though, maybe shout into the phone and make her talk to him, he heard a sharp yell followed by a loud, sickening crunch and his heart stopped. It was followed quickly with another angry smack before the sound of a limp body falling heavily to the ground, splashing into some water.

For a split second, Dean felt like the ring on his finger was actually on fire and he grimaced as a burst of heat spread through his system before disappearing once more. His eyes flew to the ring as he asked, "Buffy?"

He did not like the sound of the crunching noise, he did not like that he was here and she was there and he did not like that he wasn't anywhere near her so he could put his eyes on her and make sure she was okay. Ignoring the urge to freak out some more about his ring, Dean held his forehead, his mind racing as he tried to place the noise - it sounded like a body was getting dumped on by a bunch of concrete - but immediately trying to rationalize it. Maybe she dropped her phone. Maybe that was the sound of a demon body going splat. Maybe it was really vampires and she had been mistaken...

"Buffy?"

"Dude, talk to me," Sam said, his head ducked down to capture Dean's eye and Dean looked at him, his face a mask of ill-contained dismay, the phone pressed so deeply against his ear he was starting to cut off circulation, needing to hear more but getting nothing - he suddenly very much so wanted to hear her telling him she really was okay and that she was ready to yell at him some more and that there weren't any demons and that the sound he had heard was actually nothing related to her own body and…

But there was nothing.

"Demons... I think," was all he said and Sam's face paled. Dean shook his head, turning away.

"What?" Sam asked, shaking his head at the words and Dean fleetingly remembered that Sam didn't know Buffy and demons together were quite common but he didn't care. He didn't care - all he could think about was what had happened when Buffy had gone too far… And she never bothered to learn the Latin… Dean shook his head, trying to calm his thoughts but they raced on anyway.

There was movement from Buffy's side of the phone and Dean held up his hand to stop his brother from speaking. He narrowed his eyes on the ground, trying to listen, to hear, to put himself wherever she was but he got nothing more but a few sounds of fabric of what had to be her pants or her jacket rubbing on the phone. What the hell was going on?

Feeling a strange mixture of morbid calmness and adrenaline, Dean let out a long breath. He pressed on his eyes, trying to make himself believe that the silence meant Buffy was doing just fine. That the sound of a body crunch was actually whatever nasty she had run into and she was fine...

Because she had to be fine. Because she was the Slayer. Because she was Buffy. And because he didn't spend the last two years pushing everything he ever felt for her away only to have her swoop back in to his life, twisting everything up more than ever, to have her get her stupid ass killed.

No. No, she was alive, he thought to himself, feeling his heart rate pick up as his mind started throwing gruesome images of what could really be going on. Blood, body parts, death, blank eyes...

"Buffy?"

Dean hated the feeling ballooning in his chest, getting bigger and heavier the longer the silence lasted. It was like what he felt whenever he went on a hunt with Sam - the thought that he wouldn't be there to protect him, be there to save him as his dad wanted him to, as he wanted to. Trepidation and fear and anger and helplessness mixed in his stomach, leaving him feeling slightly paralyzed and he sat down on the bed, listening harder to the silence. He didn't see Sam hovering over him, waving his hands for answers.

He knew she was the Slayer and he knew from watching her in the past that she could take more than anyone he knew and still stand and keep going.

It didn't help crap. If anything, it made him feel worse that he wasn't there, there to make sure she was okay, to protect her...

"Buffy, pick up your fucking phone," he grumbled. He watched Sam sit across from him, his eyes never leaving his face but Dean ignored it. Ignored the questions he knew wanted to come spewing out.

Dean could hear some water through the phone, he could hear footsteps and some voices again but none of them made sense. Had she dropped her phone? What the hell was she doing?

Dean looked up at Sam, about to tell him to stop helicoptering around him when he felt a sharp stinging pain suddenly grip his left hand, starting in the center and spanning out. Dean hissed, looking down as his fingers started spasming before the pain shot up through his arm and into his chest. He let out an angry, pained groan as Sam grabbed him, asking what the hell was happening when they heard Buffy scream on the other side of the line.

* * *

She wasn't sure how much time had passed.

She felt like she was in a heavy fog as she realized she was cold. Very cold, like something slimy had crawled underneath her skin and wormed away all her body's natural heat. She wanted to shiver, she wanted to move out of the way but she was so tired... When she thought about moving, when she tried, she blacked out, lost sense of time before rolling back into being aware... before closing her eyes and disappearing again.

Her body felt stony, her head felt like it had been removed from her body... It was like looking through a foggy magnifying glass that was way too close to its object. She couldn't concentrate, she couldn't see anything.

For a moment, she was aware that she was still in the sewer tunnels and that Faith was lying next to her. She remembered the demons, she remembered falling on the ground, getting kicked and punched. She remembered defending herself but the hit on the back of her head had been too much, too shocking, and she had lost her ability to concentrate. And then she was down. They had caught her by surprise, hit her good. She kept repeating to herself that these were human beings, that they were innocent but...

But then there was the knife followed by the uncomfortably blinding pain.

She couldn't really remember too well where else she had been hurt. She had gotten knocked on the head a few times before losing consciousness...

Buffy groaned slightly, moving her head but the spikes of pain radiating through her skull stopped the rest of her movement before she blacked out again.

The next thing she was aware of was splashing; heavy, angry splashing coming from the side of the tunnel where the demons had come from. She felt a stab of fear in her chest as she tried to open her eyes again, tried to get up, to act but she couldn't.

She was too weak, she felt like everything in her body had been sapped of her energy and strength. Like she had been bruised to next Sunday and back and she started irrationally wondering if her legs had been cut off - if she could even stand, she thought frantically, what if the bastards were coming back? - when she heard them.

"Maybe we should have gotten some blueprints or something?" a deep, soft voice asked and Buffy turned her head slightly to look in that direction and squinted when she saw two bright beams of flashlights.

"How in the hell are these damn sewers so goddamn big?" another voice asked with a roughened tone and Buffy felt a gasp escape her lips, her chest deplete in relief as a hot tear she hadn't felt a moment ago escaped. Dean. "This is goddamn ridiculous; we've been down here for four fucking hours."

"Dean-" the other voice started before he cut him, "No."

Buffy thought she heard an annoyed sigh and she tried to get up, tried to move but she was too tired... What the hell had those demons done to her? Their steps were heavy but quick as they moved closer to her and she heard the other man saying, "I think we were already down this way-" when they abruptly stopped. She had to close her eyes when one of the flashlights stabbed into her eyes.

"Jesus Christ," Dean breathed quickly, pausing for just a second as he spotted the two bodies on the ground ahead of him. One was definitely Faith, lying at an awkward angle, her legs twisted together, not moving… and then there was Buffy. His Buffy who was trying to lift an arm to block his flashlight.

Dean dropped it without thinking and was by her side in a second, accidentally splashing more water in her face when he reached her as he dropped down to her side. "Buffy?"

"Dean," she whispered as Sam flew to Faith's side, his flashlight still in hand as he shined it on Faith's body to check her wounds. It gave Dean enough light to see Buffy, to see the small, relieved smile on her lips, the tear stain where it had fallen as it creased through the sewer muck on her temple. But that wasn't the bad part. The bad part was the left side of her face, the large, swollen bruise on her cheek. It looked like a turnip was trying to grow out of her bone. Dean felt his heart cave in as he stared at her before reaching up to touch it.

And then he realized his other hand was wet. Hot wet, not cold, gooey wet from the sewer water... Dean looked down at his stained palm, his eyes narrowing when he turned to her abdomen. It looked like someone had splashed a bucket of mud on her light blue t-shirt. Dean would have been happy to go along thinking - knowing - it was just mud but he knew better.

"Sam, flashlight," he snapped, holding out his hand and Sam immediately slapped it into his open palm and Dean shined it down on Buffy. And he nearly choked from the fear and horror welling up from his chest.

Her entire abdomen was soaked through with blood. It was all fresh, the edges barely starting to dry, barely starting to look like dirt on her shirt. But the center...

"Oh, god," he whispered, his eyes dancing to Buffy's face where her eyes had closed, looking like she really was dead, but he could see her chest moving with shallow breaths The barely controlled panic in his chest grew as he looked at Sam who was staring at Buffy with an open mouth.

"Damn it," Dean whispered under his breath, ignoring the way his voice hitched as he whipped his jacket off and leaning over to shake Buffy's shoulder slightly. She didn't respond and Dean nearly turned around and slammed his fist into the wall. Instead, he fought to take a deep breath. Is this what he had felt? The moment before she screamed, before Dean lost it and almost threw his cellphone through the window before heading out to find her... the blinding, stabbing pain in his body? Had he been feeling what they were doing to her?

What the hell? What the hell had they done to her?

"What's going on, Dean?" he heard Sam ask in growing horror but he just shook his head, whispering, "I don't know," his face a mixture of pained confusion as he hooked a finger under her t-shirt to lift it off but it barely moved, the fabric sticking to her bloody wound and Buffy hissed slightly, coming back to him. She tried to instinctively move away from his hand where she was hurt but she couldn't move too well.

Blinking away the sudden tears in his eyes, Dean forced himself to concentrate as he slowly lifted her into his arms, out of the sewer water where she had been resting. He felt a strong rush of anger slam into his body as he thought about Buffy lying here, for hours, alone, being tortured... A blinding and painful fire started in his chest as he gritted his teeth. Buffy let out a strangled cry as Dean moved her and Dean immediately regretted it but didn't stop, wrapping his jacket around her shoulders.

"Buffy," Dean started when she let out a low, pained groan, sitting down and pulling her into his lap. She sagged lazily against his shoulder, her breath hitched as she tried to find a way to breathe without pain. Dean tried to cup her face, tried to make her focus. "What the hell happened?"

"Demons," she slurred, her eyes drooping again and she finally let her weight go as she collapsed against his chest, unable to maintain it. God, how much blood had she lost? "I couldn't..."

"I know," Dean breathed, knowing exactly what she was going to say, knowing exactly what she remembered. "I know, I know... So my kind of demon then?"

"Would I be laying here if they were my kind?" Buffy demanded in a low voice, completely lacking the punch and passion she had had just a few short hours ago before she let out a pained breath, her voice thick with tears as she continued trying to move. "I don't think so."

"Well, it's nice to know you can still be a smartass, that's a good sign," Dean said with forced humor in his tone as he tried once more to look at her face before focusing on the blood. "Let me take a look at you... Jesus, Buffy..."

Buffy tried to blink her eyes open but she was so tired... She felt the beginnings of a small amount of panic settling in as she realized her body was falling into shock. From what? What had happened? She felt like her entire body was on fire the more she tried to move... She felt like she was falling into a hole where she had no control and all she really wanted to do was get up and do a jig or a high kick or something... anything to make sure her body still worked... But she was too tired, like she didn't have power to move...

"Dean," Buffy breathed, more tears falling from her eyes, the panic growing when she tried to pull her knees up but she couldn't move, her breath picking up anxiously. Suddenly all she could think about was what they had done to her, what might be broken, what they had done to her stomach, the burning, enveloping pain... everything she had let happen because she couldn't get up and just tear the human bodies apart... She had never felt like this before, this intense sap of energy, like something had sucked it out of her body.

"Shh," Dean said, pulling her back against his chest and wrapping his arms around her. She let out a choked sob but the effect his embrace had on her was instant and she felt her body responding, calming down. Buffy closed her eyes against him, instinctively turning into his arms, letting out another sob when the action made the skin on her stomach rend, tear...

She didn't care that she hadn't seen him in two years. She didn't care that she was now hitched to this man, this man she had told herself she would never see again if she could help it. She just didn't care. It felt too good being back in his arms; safe and secure, like nothing could hurt her there. Which, on a normal day, was a totally silly thought since she was the one with the superpowers but right now... it was all too good. She needed it, needed to know someone was there to take care of her, help her... Buffy let herself collapse into him again.

"Dean, we have to take her to the hospital," Sam said across from him, where he had turned Faith over gingerly. She was breathing but wasn't responding to anything. "This doesn't look good."

"No... No hospitals," Buffy grumbled against his chest and Dean rolled his eyes, knowing that was exactly what she was going to say. He suddenly got a flash of her standing over him, her eyes smudged with makeup from crying, her arm bandaged as she stared at him where he was laid up in a hospital bed before he shut the memory down.

And what about now? What had they done to her, had they stabbed her? Cut her?

"Buffy-"

"No," Buffy retorted weakly. "No hospitals. Just..." She took a deep breath as she tried to sit up but she wasn't able to, the pain like a wake of lava across the surface of her skin and she let out an uneven keel of pain. "Just take us back to the... to the hotel, we'll be fine."

"Buffy, we don't know how bad this-"

"No," she said adamantly and Dean growled, "You're being an idiot right now."

"You're not the one with the Slayer healing, you… guy..." she whispered before letting her eyes close. She missed the sharp, pointed look that Sam suddenly shot Dean and he stopped where he had been leaning over to pick Faith up.

"What? Slayer healing?" Sam repeated incredulously. "She's the Slayer?"

Dean frowned at him, just wanting to get up, get them out of there before he shrugged. "Well... not technically. There're more of them now so she's really... a Slayer." His eyes found Faith where Sam had his hand on her cheek, looking anywhere but into his brother's suddenly drilling eyeballs as he added sheepishly, "And I think she might be one too..."

"What? Dean, I can't believe you didn't tell me!" Sam snapped, his voice picking up as it echoed down the hallway. Still kneeling down, he pointed his finger accusingly at his brother. "That might have been a little nice to share, don't you think? Instead of stepping into a freaking bloodbath!"

"Sam-"

"And what about what happened at the motel? What else about all of this aren't you conveniently mentioning?" Sam continued, his voice piercing.

"Jesus, Sammy, not now, okay," Dean bit out, unconsciously digging his fingers into Buffy where he held her in his lap at the mention of the motel. What had happened with his ring when Buffy had screamed, when she had been cut, when she had been tortured... Dean realized he was squeezing her too hard but she didn't respond and he looked down to see she had lost consciousness again.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I should have told you, whatever, but pull the mommy crap later. Untwist your panties and help me get them back to their room."

Sam's jaw dropped open. "We're not going to the hospital? Dude, she could have internal bleeding!" He motioned almost spastically to Faith. "She could have brain damage!"

"Trust me," Dean drawled, pulling himself into a standing position as he shifted Buffy in his arms, slipping an arm under her knees to cradle her. "I've seen Slayer powers work and they don't fuck around."

* * *

Buffy didn't want to wake up.

She wanted to stay right where she was, in Dream Land. Dream Land consisted of many nice things including a warm feathery bed, strong arms surrounding her as he whispered in her ear, something soft, crooning… a song…

Buffy's eyes snapped open before immediately shutting against the dull table lamp that was illuminating the room. She let out a tired groan as she tried to move but every inch of her body fought her and she laid still, trying to move her hand up to rub her eyes but she found it was like trying to lift a hundred pound weight with her pinky. She blinked her eyes open, her brow furrowed as she tried to speak but her throat was dry.

"Hey," a voice said gently and Buffy felt a rush of warmth blossom in her chest, fanning out through her body but she ignored it, frowning as she tried to lift her other arm but the same sensation bogged her down. "Hey, take it easy."

"Dean?" she asked without seeing, squeezing her eyes shut to wet them before opening them again to find him leaning over her on the bed, his face all frowny and concerned as he studied her and she couldn't hold back her tiny smile. Dean. Dean was there. Dean had found her.

"Hey, princess," he said lowly, gently sitting next to her on the bed and Buffy snorted but found even that took too much effort.

"I hate it when you call me that," she whispered, trying to sound belittled but she only sounded like she was dead. God, what in the hell had happened to her? She could hear Dean chuckling and she let herself revel for a moment in the sensation of his warm, heavy body dipping the bed next to her slightly where he sat, her hip touching his, so close to him... It felt so good. She felt so safe, so secure... "What happened?"

"You've been out for a few hours," Dean replied, his voice still low and Buffy tried to sit up, the same sensation of her blood having been replaced with sand dragging her down and she felt Dean's hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stay laying down. "Trust me, baby, you're gonna want to stay still."

Buffy frowned. "What happened?" she asked again, turning her head to check her surroundings and found her hair was wet. And she was in her hotel room. "Am I wet?"

Dean chuckled at her words and Buffy found it within herself to give him a tired look and he smirked at her. "Sorry," he said gruffly before nodding. "Yeah, we had to, uh..." Buffy furrowed her brow as she watched him frown, his eyes darting to her stomach before meeting her eyes again. "Wash you off."

Buffy shook her head. "We?"

Dean nodded, throwing his thumb over his shoulder without turning and Buffy tried to lift herself to see where he was pointing, getting a little farther than last time and instantly regretting it when a stab of hot pain gripped her middle. She let out a gasp and Dean instantly had his hands back on her shoulders, pushing her back down, his voice soothing as he said, "Hey, shh. Take it easy."

"Who-"

"Take it easy," he said again and Buffy let her body collapse against the bed once again unable to fight against whatever was happening to her body. She swallowed hard, finding it difficult to even breathe through the pain. She forced herself to concentrate on Dean instead of the frightening fact that she couldn't hardly move... she could feel the tethers of panic starting in her chest, reaching out as he spoke, "Your lovely friend Faith cleaned you up." He snorted and Buffy found it easier to concentrate on him as their eyes met, his voice distracting and beautiful and deep and comforting. "She wouldn't let me touch you."

Buffy frowned at his voice, a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "Why?"

"She's a little like a, uh..." Dean made a contemplative face and Buffy let out a pained chuckle at the silly look, the movement causing her abdominal muscles to squeeze which made her skin squeeze and she let out a little gasp. Dean's face melted back into concern, shooting her an apologetic look. "Sorry. She's a little like a scary ass hellhound."

"She is not," Buffy said in a strained, tired voice. "She's here? Is she okay?"

Dean snorted. "Oh yeah, she's here. Wouldn't let you out of her sight until she knocked out... She was certainly fine enough to come to on the way back here and pop Sammy in the face before demanding I pull the car over." Buffy didn't take her eyes off his face as he spoke and he brushed some of her hair off her forehead, running a finger down her temple, the trail he left feeling hot on her skin. He smirked. "Didn't go over too well when I didn't."

"What did you do?" Buffy asked, her tone exhausted, waiting to hear that instead of placating the nice, enraged and once-upon-a-time homicidal Slayer, he had pissed her off even more.

"I didn't do anything," Dean said with faux-innocence and Buffy rolled her eyes. "What? I didn't. She actually hit _me_."

"And you didn't deserve it?" Buffy asked with a hint of a smile, realizing that she had once again calmed down, the coils of panic and fear that had started to wind through her body like a noose gone. Her body had relaxed all over again, despite the knowledge that something was wrong with her. She felt... so safe, so secure where she was, it was hard to understand and hard to explain. One thing she did know was that when Dean was with her, touching her... everything was alright in the world. Everything was good.

Dean chuckled and Buffy nodded, knowing him. "Well, I did call her a cracked out Barbie but she deserved it, punching my brother. Although we did almost hit about five cars after she punched me in the back of the head. While I was driving."

"What?" Buffy asked, her eyes narrowing in her own concern and Dean shook his head at her. "Dean."

"I'm fine."

Buffy rolled her eyes, her every movement sluggish and exaggerated as she tried to get back to her normal level of action. "No, you... You should know better than to piss of a Slayer."

Dean had the audacity to look a little pleased with himself and Buffy couldn't help herself when she let out a little chuckle, once again regretting it when her body reacted with a flare of pain, her every muscle tensing as she let out a little gasp.

"Okay, slow down, baby," he said in a low voice, the joking tone gone and Buffy let out a little groan, closing her eyes as she tried to move around, tried to do something. She found she wanted to curl into a ball and hide herself; the pain was so searing and painful, so direct and hitting every single nerve within distance. "You gotta lay still."

"Why?" Buffy bit out, finally lifting her arm enough to touch her stomach but she immediately regretted that as well when her fingers touched the wound through her t-shirt. "What happened... what's happening to me?"

"It's okay," Dean said in a soothing voice and for the first time since she had woken up, she finally felt aware enough to wonder why Dean felt the need to talk to her like she was dying or something. Like he had to comfort her at all costs or she would fall apart, fall away from him and he didn't want that to happen. Buffy felt those tendrils of panic starting once again and her breathing picked up.

"Dean, what's going on?" she asked, tears welling up in her eyes as she thought about every possible thing that could be wrong with her. Maybe she had some sort of demonic disease, what if it was eating away at her insides and she was going to turn in to a snail? What if they had cut out her kidneys and all she had left was her heart and she was just lying there, dying? She shook her head as her thoughts whirled about without any focus or sanity before focusing on Dean again.

Dean, who looked worried as all hell. And a little scared. And like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders as he sighed, glancing at her stomach before meeting her eyes again and Buffy felt her heart constrict at the raw emotion before he shuttered his face. She realized that one of his hands was on her hip, his thumb moving in slow circles to comfort her.

"We don't know," he finally replied.

"What?" she gasped, a hot, painful tear escaping, scorching a trail down her temple and into her hair as she tried to sit up again. Instead of letting the pain take over, she pushed through it but couldn't hold back the pained cry that fell from her lips. It literally felt a demon's claws were digging into her insides in order to rip her intestines out.

"What did they do to me?" she ground out and Dean didn't move to stop her, sitting back and looking slightly annoyed that she was doing everything he asked her not to and she glared at him before closing her eyes. Honestly, at a time like this? But instead of feeling the familiar rush of righteous anger that usually came with her Dean annoyance, Buffy felt a little trickle of it before it died in her chest, eclipsed by the pain. She suddenly felt deep warmth on her thigh and she looked down and saw Dean was touching her. She bit her bottom lip when she saw some blood had soaked through her t-shirt and through what she now felt was a thick bandage on her stomach. "Dean?"

"They cut you," he said softly, looking away and Buffy tried to follow his gaze. "And something's wrong, we don't know what. It's like you can't..." Dean took a deep breath and Buffy frowned at the pain she heard in his voice, the helplessness and for the first time in two years, she wanted to pull him towards her and hold him. Comfort him, be the one he could lean on... For a moment, she felt her own pain completely disappear as she studied him, as he closed his eyes, his jaw tightening before pushing whatever was going on his head down, away. And then he was looking at her, concerned. Shut off from whatever she had just glimpsed. Buffy blinked, trying to push down the rush of emotions that suddenly clashed with the physical pain. "It's like you can't heal."

"I'm not healing?" she asked softly, her eyes blurring as the news sank in before she sagged against him slightly. His arms were immediately up and around her and she took in a deep breath, trying to blink away her tears but she lost a few where they soaked into Dean's shirt. "Why? Why am I not healing?"

"We don't know, baby," he said softly, his hand rubbing up and down her back and Buffy took a deep breath, that now familiar calm sweeping through her as she laid her head on his shoulder. "We're looking into it."

"What?" she asked softly, squeezing her eyes shut as Dean's presence worked its magic on her. Whatever magic it was. Did this have something to do with their rings? The curse? What in the hell was going on?

"We're trying to find out what's going on," he said gently and Buffy pulled back, blinking up at him, trying not to move her body.

"Call Willow," she said. "Giles."

"Hey, take a chill pill," he said and Buffy rolled her eyes at his lame words. He smiled softly. "Faith did. I guess that guy Giles is coming out here and Sam is-"

"Wait, what?" Buffy gasped, her eyes snapping open with the news, her body suddenly much more alert as she met Dean's eyes. "Giles is coming out here?"

"Yeah-"

"What? No," Buffy said, shaking her head and Dean shook his head with her, but his was in confusion as he tried to make sense of her logic jumping. "No, no, he can't come out here. We're married!"

"Yeah. Not big news anymore," Dean said slowly and Buffy made a face at him. Dean rolled his eyes. "Buffy, you got attacked by a herd of demons who did something to you and now you're not healing right." He looked at her like she was stupid. "Kinda more important."

"But Giles is going to kill me," Buffy said in a soft voice and Dean frowned at her. Giles was going to kill her. She hadn't talked to him about getting married. She hadn't talked to him about anything since he had heard the word 'marriage.' Hell, she had barely talked about Dean. Ever. She had barely been able to listen to Faith's side of the conversation when she finally took Giles' call earlier and it had been the opposite of pretty.

Oh god, he was going to kill her. And then kill Dean. And then kill her all over again. And then he was going to lecture her.

Dean smirked at her and Buffy shook her head but Dean stopped her movements, cradling her face in his hands and placing a kiss on her forehead. "I know being married to me sucks," he started and Buffy snorted, "But this is more important."

"Oh yeah, and being married to some guy you left a few years ago is oh so much better," Buffy replied sarcastically and she watched Dean pause, his face unreadable before melting back into some weird calmed assurance. Buffy blinked at him before breaking eye contact. Right. She was married to Dean. Married. To. Dean. Buffy closed her eyes as the focused confusion from before the attack came back full force, the feeling of Dean's arms around her, holding her. The thought of him watching over her... confusing. All confusing.

It was all made worse by the fact that all of her anger earlier was suddenly gone. She felt... healed. When she wasn't healing...

Oh yes, something was weird.

She finally looked around the room, shrugging out of his arms slightly as she took it in. It was dark outside, likely the middle of the night. She could see vaguely in the dark living room a lump on one of the sofas that had to be Faith. And beside the bed a chair that Dean had pulled up so he could sit next her, waiting for her to wake up.

Buffy shook her head. What was going on? What was Dean doing to her? What was the stupid ring on her finger doing to her? She should have been hopping out of bed, waking Faith up, demanding answers. Calling Willow to talk to her herself, calling Giles to explain that she had really been sleepwalking and she wasn't actually married. But instead, she felt like she was in some, tiny cocoon that she didn't want to leave. She didn't want Dean to stop touching her and she didn't want to go anywhere that he wasn't.

Which... something was definitely weird.

Buffy took a deep breath, pushing all of that away. She focused on her movements as she pushed Dean back slightly, making a move to stand up. Dean frowned at her, moving as she wished but not without comment, "Don't be a fucking moron, trying to do more than you can."

"Oh, gee, thanks," Buffy said softly, her voice strained as she swung her legs over the bed. She gritted her teeth as she stood, her abdominal muscles screaming at her to just rest, to just stop.

"Buffy."

"I wanna see," she replied through her teeth, moving slowly towards the bathroom and Dean frowned as he followed her. Buffy felt like she was moving in slow motion, her steps stilted as if she could barely lift her feet. The tendrils of panic were back all over again, stronger than ever after the Giles freak-out-distraction...

This wasn't her body. Her body was quick, spry... easier to move than this. And she was so tired. So weak.

She could see Dean in the mirror when she entered, as she turned on the light; he was glaring at her, his eyes saying more than his frown and Buffy ignored him.

"Buffy-"

"Just..." Buffy shook her head, leaning against the sink as she stared at her stomach in the reflection, the tiny spot of blood on the lower part of her shirt. She fingered it slightly before letting her arm drop for a moment and then she realized she was breathing, heavily. Too heavily considering she had just taken a dozen steps. And then she looked up at her face and gasped. "Oh, god."

She more heard than saw Dean moving towards her as she took in her injuries. The bruise, the cuts... the largest among them was a large welt on her left check. It looked like someone had steel-toed her face about five times before cutting it open to see how much blood had gathered there. She blanched at her reflection, her eyes switching to Dean's where he watched her in uncomfortable silence.

Blinking away the shock at the sight, Buffy looked down at her stomach and slowly lifted her shirt, anchoring it over her breasts as she quickly started peeling back the lightly taped gauze. Blood had already soaked through the bandages and she absently thought they would need to be replaced before she caught a glimpse of what was underneath. God, if her face looked like mottled, dead crap, what had happened to her abdomen?

It stole her breath away as she immediately recognized one of the symbols carved in the upper corner of her stomach. And then she continued pulling the gauze away, her face a constant grimace of pain as the tape tore at her skin, the gauze sticking to her wound slightly. She dropped the bandages to the floor, her mouth hanging open in shock when she finally pulled the last piece away, ignoring the way her wounds flared with each and every single movement.

"A devil's trap," she whispered, her eyes glued to her stomach and she heard Dean taking a step forward, responding, "Yeah."

Buffy shook her head. "But..." She was at a loss for words. A devil's trap? Carved into her skin... Buffy blinked away the tears as she narrowed her eyes, trying to look closer in the reflection before pressing her breasts out of the way so she could look down, see it more clearly... the edges of each cut, each symbol, the circle, looked harsh... like it had been burned away before being cut away... And the wound looked fresh, like it had just happened; literally like something was stopping it from healing.

Buffy let out a choked sob and she felt Dean's hand on her back before it disappeared just as quickly. "Why?"

She heard him rummaging through a bag before he was next to her again, setting some new bandages and new tape on the sink. Buffy turned to look at him and he met her eyes, his own face pained and confused before looking away and then down at her wounds. "I don't know."

Buffy shook her head and Dean turned her to face him. She went along with the movements without thinking, unable to tear her eyes from her stomach. A devil's trap... was used to trap demons. Trap things that were evil and keep them held within. How many times had she stepped within a devil's trap and felt nothing? Maybe a slight tug, something deep inside but something so easy to overcome... Buffy felt a deep-seated fear settle deep down as she thought about Slayers. What it meant to be a Slayer. What was used to make Slayers... How often had she thought about demons and humans and what had happened to make the first Slayer? What she had seen when the shaman tried to give her more power… But this... this was new.

"Dean," she choked out and Dean shook his head at her, not wanting to hear it. "But-"

"Just take it easy," Dean replied, turning on the sink and running a new washcloth underneath it, completely ignoring Buffy's frantic voice. He turned back to her, not looking into her eyes before kneeling to face her stomach. "This is gonna hurt like hell so..."

Buffy hissed when he pressed the washcloth against her skin and she closed her eyes, her mind whirling as she dug her fingernails into her chest where she held her shirt up, trying to distract from the pain with new pain. What the hell? Seriously, what the hell? She forced herself back to a few hours ago, trying to think, trying to remember... But she just remembered the demons. Remembered watching Faith fall before she fell... before the intense pain...

Buffy couldn't bite back the gasps of pain as he wiped away the new blood that had oozed through - shouldn't she have stopped bleeding? Buffy couldn't remember the last time she had hurt this long, this bad... because she never had before. She finally opened her eyes when he finished, the pain gripping her so intensely, she was having a hard time breathing. She stared at the top of his head where he was kneeling in front of her... she could feel his hot breath tickling painfully at her wounds as he dropped the bloodied washcloth to the floor before he grabbed the bandages and started pressing them against her stomach.

This entire night was turning into a huge crapfest. Buffy felt tears welling up from the pain again as Dean pressed the bandages down. First, they didn't find the new Slayer. They barely even got a lead on her before they got attacked. And then the demons. And then this. And then... Buffy felt her throat tighten as she thought about the demons. In human bodies. She looked at her hands for a moment, seeing they had been scrubbed clean, the small abrasions from hitting rough facial bones still evidenced on her knuckles... She was definitely not healing right.

And the man in the suit...

"I killed a man," she said softly, her voice bleak and Dean's movements stopped before he looked up at her. He looked sad, almost defeated for her, and she felt more tears welling, blurring her vision. "I tried-"

"Buffy," he said softly and Buffy met his eyes. God, what was happening to her? Just a few hours ago, she had been composed, confident, cool... and now she was falling apart. Now she was married to Dean, someone who had more power over her than she could ever admit to, someone who ignited something dangerous inside her... She had been attacked by demons who, instead of killing her like a normal bunch of them would have, had carved a devil's trap into her abdomen which seemed to both be sucking away her energy as well as her ability to heal, whatever the hell that meant... "It's okay."

Buffy just shook her head, squeezing her eyes closed before taking in a deep breath. She didn't open them again as Dean waited a moment before continuing, applying more bandages...

She felt his hands covering hers when he stood, tugging on her fingers to relinquish her hold and she did so with a small grunt, the spots where her nails had been digging into her chest plate burning with a bright awareness. That pain felt good, it felt new and easy and controlled compared to her abdomen...

Dean didn't say anything as he tugged her shirt back down, covering the bandages before taking her hand and pulling her along with him, out of the bathroom. Suddenly, everything that had been propelling Buffy was gone... she was just tired again, her body full of lead and she vaguely felt Dean's hand crawling up her arm when they reached the bed as he turned her around so she could lay down. Buffy climbed into the bed with jerky movements before she settled down.

She felt him moving, breathing, acting around her, pulling the comforter up so it was covering her and she closed her eyes when he turned off the lights, bathing the room in darkness except for the flickering lights of the city that never shuts its eyes at night. Las Vegas helped her see when she opened hers and saw Dean sit back down in his chair beside the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face before covering his mouth as he stared at the floor. Buffy felt her heart sink as she watched his shoulders fall, so much obviously happening inside his crazy head and for another split instant, Buffy's pain evaporated as she thought about leaning forward to smooth away the worry lines, be the one to tell him it would be okay…

"Dean," she said softly and she saw him immediately react, angling his head so he could see her face. She smiled but her back was to the window, the lights illuminating his face; she was sure he didn't see it.

"Yeah?" he responded and Buffy frowned at the grating sound, like his throat had a colony of frogs in it.

"Lay with me?" she asked softly. She watched Dean pause, turning his head to look at the bed before turning his eyes back to her face.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he replied, his voice low and Buffy heard a distinct snore coming from the living room. But she didn't take her eyes off of Dean.

"Please," she said, lifting the comforter a bit as an invitation and Dean took a deep breath, looking around the room before acquiescing. He stood silently, looking unsure all over again before nodding to himself and moving around to the other side. Buffy tried to turn, to move to face him but he moved much, much quicker than she could at the moment and she felt the bed dip as he crawled under the covers.

A silent moment passed where neither of them moved and Buffy, feeling the tug of sleep scratching at her, was about to ask him to do a little more than just lay there like a doof when she felt him scoot closer to her. Buffy let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding as he wrapped an arm around her loosely, across her breasts, his hand circling her upper arm, enclosing her in his embrace, squeezing her gently.

Buffy lifted her head so he could slide his other arm under her and once again, the calm returned as she fell back into his chest. The feeling of being safe, secure, content came back with him touching her, surrounding her, and when sleep beckoned, she let it take over. She didn't think any more about the devil's trap. She didn't think about the other damage to her body. She didn't think that she should be in Slayer mode, be questioning everything and analyzing and wondering why she felt this intense draw to Dean, so much stronger than anything before. She didn't stop to wonder why he looked like he wasn't telling her something, like he was holding something back from her… She felt like a normal girl all of a sudden, someone who needed comforting and craved it…

She was just so tired…

She was asleep when Dean, holding her as tight as he could without hurting her, closed his eyes before pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She barely reacted by leaning back into his chest, letting out another deep sigh.

Instead of sleeping, he stared at the opposite wall, watching the dance of the lights from the city below drawing their shadowed colors across the room, unable to close his eyes as his mind crowded with thoughts he wanted nothing to do with.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

He stood back, watching her. She held the blood-caked knife above her head, her fingers dancing over the crusted red stain, some of it flaking off on her skin like rust, some drifting to the ground. She smiled as she titled her head, holding it up underneath the glow of the dim underground lighting.

"Superb," she whispered to herself, bringing the dried blood on her fingertips to her lips with a delightful hum. He knew she knew he was there. She always knew when they were all there but he still stuck to the shadows, still kept away from her immediate view. When she saw him - saw any of them - it was never good. She had always made it clear that she didn't actually _like_ them - they were there for her convenience.

She brought the knife to her nose, inhaling it briefly before she shivered. "Oh yes, this is perfect. It's working..."

It sounded like she wanted him to respond but he held his tongue, kept his mouth shut but his eyes open. She twirled, her light skirt floating up around her of its free will, her grin growing as she held the knife up again.

"Oh yes..." she breathed, her eyes closed, far away as she put a hand to her heart. "I can feel them..."

Suddenly a sharp, acrid stench filled the small space as the bare bulb that was the only lighting under there started flickering. He cringed, his back tightening as he watched her pause, her glee melting instantly as she raised an eyebrow, glancing up at the ceiling where a black cloud billowed down with intent, like it had a mind of its own. It started spiraling down, circling the room for a second before entering her body through her mouth, her nose and her eyes, moving too quickly for anyone to react.

He grimaced as he watched her, her body convulsing as it took in the demon - took _him_ in - before she went limp, dropping to the cold stone with a loud smack. He didn't dare move though. He didn't dare try to help her. He had tried once, at the beginning... he didn't try anymore.

He was too scared.

It wasn't a normal demon possession. A demon - no matter what kind of demon - couldn't possess her like that. She was too strong.

He watched her body jerk to life before it started floating in the air slightly, rising from the floor, her limbs slower to respond as they hung limply before it righted itself once more. It was a beautiful thing to watch, to see, in its own right as her body floated in the middle of the room before she was gently set back down on her feet.

Her eyes snapped open, staring at nothing, her head jerking to the right as she spoke in a dark, amused voice, "I take it our little hatch is working then?"

Her head jerked back to the left, her neck twisting so quickly, so violently, that he wondered how it didn't just twist her head right off. He tore his eyes away from the scene, glancing around the room, seeing his other comrades in the shadows, creating a circle around the spectacle. Waiting. Always waiting.

"Oh, yes," she replied in a breathy voice, her normal, light voice that always sounded slightly off, like she wasn't entirely present. Although right now she sounded a little... angry. "_My_ plan is working divinely, my sweet little hellion."

Her head snapped back to the right, her mouth opening in a deep cackle and when she opened her eyes, they were directly on him and he saw them flickering between a dark black smoke and a nauseating yellow before melting back into her natural ice blue. Her lips smirked at him as they moved, "Oh, now now now, no need to get snippy."

Her head went back to the left, her body moving with it this time as she waved her hands in the air, her head ticking farther and farther, making her body look like a deranged beast controlled it. Her eyes closed as she said, "You know I hate this kind of entrance."

Back to the right. "Come now, my precious little girl, this is the only way you'll listen."

Her head jerked to the left. "And you know there are more than enough ways to make sure you never do this again... I'm only allowing it because-"

She was cut off when her head twisted to the right, her mouth opening in a loud yawning noise before saying, "Oh yes, the fun threats. You know there's no reason for those. We're both getting satisfaction with this little... deal, my darling, so no need for the idle chit chat."

Back to the left. "Then why-"

She snapped back to the right once more, this time her entire body moving with it and it looked painful as her head twisted, her body starting to twist slightly like a beautiful braid - only instead of hair, it was a human body. It was almost like the two beings inhabiting it wanted to go in different directions and her body was paying the price. He could only imagine the way her spine looked as she twisted further.

"I just wanted to check in, make sure things were running along… smoothly."

She didn't get a chance to respond when her head jerked back with a snap, her mouth opening in a silent scream as the black smoke retched from her body, funneling up towards the stone ceiling where it floated for a moment as her body dropped again to the ground. Her fingers reached blindly for the knife where it had fallen with a clatter, wrapping her fingers around the hilt before looking up. She had a stream of blood dripping from her nose as she glared at the black smoke. She watched it leak through the ceiling, escaping from the tight chambers as she wiped the blood from her face, standing slowly.

She licked her lips, cleaning the smeared red that had crept down before her eyes snapped to him and he felt a chill deep in his muscles. He immediately stepped forward, into the light, bowing his head.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice quiet.

She held the knife up. "Put this with the other one. And prepare for his." She glanced once more at the ceiling, one of her eyes ticking as she cocked her head. He watched her as she titled her head further and he could only imagine what was happening inside her mind as her long, curled brown hair followed her movements before she suddenly snapped her icy eyes back on him.

"Now," she said in a low voice and he grabbed the knife and turned as quickly as he could, escaping her.

* * *

_He had been here before._

_He knew this room, he knew this scene. He knew what was going to happen as he felt his body shaking although the pain wasn't there like he remembered, which was weird. Licking his lips, he squeezed his eyes open, knowing what he would see. Sam. He saw Sam on the opposite wall, held against the aged wood of the cabin by the demon possessing his father. And John Winchester... his body invaded by that yellow-eyed bastard, stood in front of him, his head titled as he talked at him. But he couldn't hear the words, lost in some sucking emptiness, as he tried to move his arms, his legs. But the force holding him in place was too great._

_When he turned to focus on his dad, the demon wasn't in front of him anymore and he didn't think twice, squeezing his eyes closed with strain, trying to fight against the invisible restraints but they wouldn't give. He was stuck, damn stuck. Just like before, before when..._

_He opened his eyes, expecting to find his father there once more, just like before._

_But this wasn't before._

_He felt a whole new horror filling him as Buffy suddenly appeared in his father's arms. Dean gasped at the sight, watching Buffy just stand there. Why didn't she do anything? Why didn't she turn, defend herself? This wasn't right. The horror, the pain, the way the demon looked at him... that was right. This, Buffy being there..._

"_No," he managed to let out but it got sucked into the endless void inside his head._

_The room felt like it was getting too dark too quickly as he stared at the blonde, seeing only her frightened green eyes as she watched him. Her mouth opened but he couldn't hear anything - there was nothing - and he saw the hand of his father wrap around her neck from behind as he held her like a shield in front of him. Her eyes got wider, the fear deeper and her mouth moved, like she was trying to tell him something, trying to get him to listen but he couldn't hear her._

_The demon's eyes glowed a sickening yellow and Dean opened his mouth to scream, to move, to act but he couldn't do anything as his father suddenly raised his free hand towards him, watched it turn into a claw in the air and then the pain was back with a vicious vengeance._

_The pain was tremendous as something inside his chest started squeezing tightly, too tightly, and he felt his skin rending as he let out a gasp, fighting harder against his unseen bindings but he couldn't move._

"_Please," he tried to whisper but his lips barely moved. He could see Sam out the corner of his eye as he struggled, his mouth open like he was yelling but all Dean could hear was his own pain, his insides ripping apart and he gasped. He watched his father's hand spread its fingers on Buffy's neck, tilting her head back too far, and he wanted to scream._

"_No... No... Get away from her... Dad!"_

_Dean couldn't help himself as he glanced down, wanting to see what was causing the pain, the unearthly pain, what his father was doing to him - no, not his father. His father was dead, right? What was this? It wasn't him, it couldn't be..._

_None of that mattered when he saw, instead of the hot blood he felt running in rivulets down his chest, black smoke fell from the open wounds along his abdomen, leaking out in a choked gasps, dropping to the floor before dissipating. Dean gasped in horror, opening his mouth to scream as he looked up, trying to plead for Buffy to get out of there, get Sammy out of there, for his dad to just stop, to not let him die, to not let him become the evil leaking out of him... _

_But instead of John he saw Sam, his eyes glowing that bright, ugly yellow, his brother's hand wrapped around Buffy's neck as he sneered at him..._

"_It's your turn, Dean..."_

"Dean."

Dean gasped.

In his mind, he looked down and watched the black smoke coming from inside him, seeping out of him instead of blood. Panic was settling in as he looked up, the image of his brother holding Buffy hostage, his father gone, dead... melting into Sammy... and he whispered, "No, no, no... Sam. Buffy."

"Dean."

"Sammy, no," he breathed out, his voice shaking, his arms tightening around whatever he was holding. The yellow eyes burned a hole in his brain as he squeezed the person in his arms tighter, trying to get up, trying to move, to save her. All that mattered was saving her... when the images started fading away.

He tried to take a deep breath but he choked on the air as it hit his too dry throat and he felt fear twisting his insides as he watched Sam's hand tightening around her throat, felt the black smoke falling...

Suddenly a warm hand was on his face and his eyes snapped open with a strangled breath, flying around the room quickly in confusion when he didn't see the cabin anymore, that it was still dark wherever he was. His brow furrowed as he fought to control his breathing, before realizing he was still in bed with Buffy, that he was actually holding her in his arms under the thick comforter of her hotel room, that Sam wasn't there, that he was safe in their room, that his dad... that his dad wasn't there.

That the demon wasn't there.

He let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes painfully as his chest tightened with dread. The images moved across the back of his eyelids and he felt Buffy's fingers brushing his cheek, her lips touching his forehead before he felt her thumb rubbing away the tears he didn't realize had escaped.

Blinking his eyes open, he pulled away from her hand and looked at her, the room lit with a barely-there glow of the city teeming with life. He could hardly see her for a moment and he wondered, in a blind panic, if he had dreamt everything and if what he had just seen was real before she came into focus.

Dean let out a deep breath, his eyes dancing all over her face, taking in her features, her very serene albeit concerned features, before choking out her name. He didn't pause as he pulled her closer into his arms, burying his face in her neck as he breathed her in. She was here. She was fine. She wasn't...

Sam wasn't...

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, holding Buffy as tightly as he could, relishing the feel of her warm body, letting it help ease the cold that he had felt growing for a while now. The cold that reared its ugly head when he closed his eyes, when he dreamed, when he saw his worst fears coming to life as he stood by helplessly... the cold that wasn't quite as piercing when he held her close.

"Shh," he heard her whisper, hugging him closer and he took a minute to try to remember what had really happened that day. That the images starting to disappear into his mind weren't reality, that he hadn't watched his brother about to kill Buffy, that he hadn't looked down to see black smoke escaping his body. "Hey, it was just a dream."

Dean let out a little groan, his mind racing to catch up as he pulled her in closer, hugging her almost desperately. He felt her hugging him back, her face in his hair as her fingers played at the nape of his neck. It felt so good, so comforting.

And then he remembered.

"Oh damn," he breathed, pulling back quickly, looking down at her. "Are you okay, did I hurt you?"

"What? No," she responded, looking up at him. Dean felt his heart squeeze at the sight of her. Christ, he had missed her. Maybe it was the dream talking, maybe it was the fact that he had just watched something that should feel entirely impossible but something that still made fear turn into a gigantic bulldozer that slowly collected his organs... but he had missed her. He wanted nothing more than to pull her back into his arms, pull her close and never let her go. And then he shook his head before really looking at her.

"Dean, what is it?" she asked softly and he felt her hand on his cheek again. But the horror from the dream was quickly being replaced with the amazing sight before him.

Her face had started healing, quickly. Where there had been a welt that had turned her cheekbone into a freakish looking pumpkin that wanted to demonize her skin, there was now just a little blemish. The swelling was completely gone and now she just looked like some little kid had tried to bitch slap her.

He blinked in shock, his hand coming up to touch her. Like his fingers had a life of their own, he traced the spot before letting his thumb roll over her lips where there had been a cut, her eyes never leaving his face as she let him explore. She was healing.

She was freaking healing.

"Son of a bitch…" he said absently, studying her face before glancing down at her stomach.

"Dean," Buffy said softly, holding his head in her hands and forcing him to look at her. "Are you okay?"

"You look amazing," he blurted out in a harsh whisper and Buffy just blinked before cracking a tiny smile.

"Thanks... I guess," she said in joking tone but the smile didn't reach the rest of her face. As his eyes adjusted to the dark room, he could see her more clearly. The light from outside flickered in her eyes and he could read the worry all over her hazel orbs. He frowned, reading her like a book. He shook his head as she said, "Dean-"

"How do you feel?" he asked her, cutting her off, sitting up, shoving the comforter down the bed and pulling away from her as he leaned forward to push her shirt up. Buffy pushed his hand away and sat up with him and he marveled at how well she was moving, at how easily and how much he wanted her to slow the fuck down and tell him she was okay. And then her hand was on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. Her other came up to his cheek again, forcing him to look at her.

"What were you dreaming?" she asked softly and Dean met her eyes for a split second before darting away, the words almost spilling out before he bit his tongue, remembering who it was he was talking to. And who the subject would be. He was suddenly intensely grateful for the darkness of the room so she didn't have to see what he was sure was on his face. He felt the mask slipping for a moment as the dream replayed inside his mind and he reached up to grab her hand, shaking his head again.

"Nothing," he said gruffly and Buffy snatched her hand back, her face twisting with annoyance but he beat her to the punch. "Drop it, Buffy, it was nothing."

"Sure didn't sound like nothing," she replied just as frankly, cocking her head to catch his eye but he rubbed his face as a way to avoid her. "Dean, you kept saying my name. And Sam's name. And your dad..."

"It was nothing," he replied in a hard, final tone - the kind of tone that usually worked with Sam and he found himself fully expecting Buffy to sit back, give him a bitchface and cross her arms but at least dropping it - he should have known better.

"Right," she said sarcastically. "Right, 'cause crying in your sleep is such a normal Dean occurrence."

"Can you just for once, in your freaking life, accept that you don't have to know every single thing going on, huh?" he asked, not looking at her. Her hand was still on his shoulder, feeling hot, the words flying from his mouth without a thought, "You don't know me anymore, Buffy, you didn't even really know me two years ago. So fucking drop it."

Dean felt her cringe and she pulled away from him, her hand disappearing, the spot where it had been on his shoulder suddenly feeling too cold with the loss as she scowled.

"Just..." Dean took a deep breath, chancing a glance at her. "Just please... look at you," he said, his voice cracking a bit as he fought to change the subject, get the spotlight away from him. God, how he wished he hadn't fallen asleep. He had never dreamed anything like that before and suddenly, falling asleep with Buffy, his very wounded Buffy, had brought up his nasty fears like they were on steroids and put them on a parade in his head. And then he had woken up, hugging her like he couldn't let her go... because he hadn't wanted to let her go. Holding her, being held by her, made it feel better.

Which was fucking ridiculous. Not an awesome way to greet the day.

Dean waved a hand at her. "Buffy, you're healing. You're moving. Let's just... take a moment to marvel at this, huh?"

But she didn't move as she glared at him, her face pointed and Dean saw her opening her mouth to say something, likely something filled with righteous hate and annoyance and all sorts of other feel-good feelings that he knew he deserved but he cut her off with a loud sigh. He rubbed his face before dropping his hands in his lap.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice grating. He hated that word. Sorry. What a fucking bullshit word. "I didn't mean... you just don't..." He rubbed his eyes as he leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees. "You don't know what these few years have been like, alright, so just..." He sat up enough to give her a hard look. "Just let me be happy that you aren't bleeding to death anymore, okay?"

She didn't move or make a sound. His watched her stare at the bedspread, her face still pinched and he sat back up, touching her shoulder but she flinched away from him.

"You act like I asked for this," she said quietly, not looking at him and Dean frowned at her. "You're acting like I swung into _your _life, made youmarry me." She let out a humorless chuckle. "Hey, let's see what that guy Dean is doing... like I made you get wrapped up all over again in my 'fucked' life," she continued, the sarcasm so heavy on the word fucked, Dean thought he could see it dripping in the damn room. His face tightened, remembering that conversation very well, as she continued, "I'm sorry I care. I'm sorry I saw the guy that I... that I..." She shook her head. "That I had a thing with crying in his stupid sleep, saying _my_ name." Buffy finally looked back at him. "Just... sorry I cared."

Dean stared at her. "Being a little melodramatic, aren't we?"

Buffy scoffed. "Wow, you are really one to talk."

Dean shook his head at her in amazement. "Well, if we're gonna fly on this train, sorry I cared enough to track you down in the sewer, carry your ass back here, clean you up and worry my goddamn head off because I thought you were dying." He gave her a chilly smile. "Guess we're even."

Buffy raised her eyebrows in equal amazement - he was sure it was the same amazement he was feeling, wonder that they were able to still argue like this despite what had happened, that they could turn even the most civilized conversation about the most civilized thing like bleeding to death into a goddamn argument.

"Fine. Whatever," she said softly, shaking her head dismissively and she turned away from him, lying back down. Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes at her. He found he really wanted to actually just... smack her, smack that 'must know every single damn thing in the entire world' attitude out of her… but he also wanted to make sure she was okay.

It didn't escape his attention how smoothly she was moving despite some resident stiffness and he laid a hand on her hip. She didn't shove him away so he took that as a good sign to proceed.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice still gruff. "You know, you did get a good filet o' fish happening back there."

Buffy responded by testing her body, her movements but still not looking at him or turning to face him. She moved just fine, gracefully even despite the lack-of-grace wiggle she did on the bed.

Dean swallowed as her body moved under his hand and he found he suddenly cared how good her hip felt as she adjusted and how hot her skin felt under his own and how cute her ass looked in those pajama bottoms and how easy it would be to slip his hand just a little farther south rather than how much her body was still wounded… He snatched his hand back, removing the temptation as he shoved the urge away. Damn, it was like being poked with white-hot poker from out of nowhere.

Shitty timing, you horny bastard.

"I'm fine," she said evenly. "You can go."

"Really."

Dean had a perfect view of her face where she faced the window and he saw her close her eyes. "Yes."

"Well, tough, sugar tits," he replied, gripping her hip and standing, using the leverage to roll her so she was laying on her back, facing him. He saw the outrage written all over her face as she moved to slap his hand away but he caught it midair.

"Let me just look, Buffy," he snapped. "You were barely able to stand a few hours ago and now you're..." She laid still, silent, as she watched him, her face dark and Dean didn't want to know what his own face shone as he thought about what he had felt, watching her in pain, watching her barely able to do anything... He bit his tongue. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

And then he narrowed his eyes at her, erasing his face again as he said, "Are you okay with that, Master Slayer?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, reading his tone for what it said aka 'whiny bitch,' her voice quiet as she said, "You're a jerk."

He smirked before sitting down next to her, pushing her shirt up, moving gently. He worked to not touch her breasts as he tucked it out of the way. The gauze was loose on her abdomen from where she had been moving around, the tape already coming up. He glanced up at her once more and found her staring at him intently, her face unreadable and he felt something silky filling the pit of his stomach.

He pushed the sensation down again as he avoided her eyes and began picking at the tape. He ignored her small cringes, removing the bandages efficiently and dropping them on the floor.

"Holy hell," he breathed in wonder as he stared at her stomach and Buffy sat up to get a view of it, the city lights bright enough to see it. Her skin moved easily with the movement and he blinked up at her as she stared at her own abdomen.

"Huh," was all she said and Dean made a face at her before looking back at what had once been a bloody fucking awful mess. Instead of the burnt, charred skin that had refused to even try closing, all that was left was a bright red line. The devil's trap was still easily seen, every little mark those demon bastards had put on her still visible but it was healing.

She was healing. A well of relief burst inside Dean's chest as he gaped at her belly, fighting the urge to touch it to see if it was real. He remembered with vivid shock what this had once been. That after a few hours all she had done was bleed more instead of using those stupid Slayer powers to do the healing for her. She had just bled. And she had barely moved, even when she was awake.

And he had freaked out. He had done a damn fine job of hiding that from her but he had been freaking the fuck out. A devil's trap, they had carved a goddamn devil's trap on her, a devil's trap that seemed to drain her. It had scared him, more than he was willing to admit to anyone. It had been a combination of fear for her life as he watched her - the strongest person he had ever met - barely able to stand by herself but also because it brought back with vivid clarity what his father had always said about Slayers.

That they weren't human.

But this... she was finally healing. This gave him hope, even though he was sure that the minute he had a moment to think through everything that had happened, he would be right back at square one.

Freaking the fuck out.

But for now, everything was okay again.

"Huh?" he mocked her and Buffy's eyes flew to his. "Really, that's it?"

Buffy frowned at him. "What?"

"Buffy, you were bleeding to death a few hours ago and freaking the hell out. And now you're finally healing." He stared at her and Buffy rolled her eyes. "A little more than a 'huh, that's neat' would be nice."

"Not exactly the first time I've been cut up, as you well know," Buffy shot back, her voice loud enough to echo in the room and she grimaced, sitting up to glance around Dean's shoulder at the sleeping lump that was her sister Slayer before looking back at him. "And it didn't help that you were doing the Freak Out Dance yourself. Kinda hard not to freak out when you're freaking out and then a whole freaking out thing happens and yeah, I was having trouble doing… jumping jacks but I'm healing." She gave him a patient look that made him feel like he was two feet tall. "This is good news."

"Don't be a bitch," he grumbled at her and Buffy glared at him, her voice saccharine as she said, "I won't be a bitch if you tell me what you were dreaming."

But Dean didn't respond to the bait as he pushed her back down to the bed so he could see it again for himself. She rolled her eyes at him but acquiesced, ignoring the dark look he shot her. He pushed her shirt farther up, entirely too aware of the way his fingers brushed her breasts before he touched the angry red lines.

Dean didn't miss the tiny exhale of breath she stole or the instant goose bumps that erupted across her skin, following the trail his fingers traced as he followed the rough circle. He suddenly found it difficult to breathe normal as he felt her abdomen follow her own stilted breathing. But he didn't move; he didn't stop touching her.

It was a miracle. Or maybe not a miracle but it was something. Something amazing. He was so sure that she wasn't going to make it for a moment there, when he had seen the blood on his hand, his now clean hands... A thousand thoughts swirled through his head about the damn thing... what it meant, why they chose that, why it had hurt her the way it did... that Sam was researching, that people were coming out to help her…

Dean blinked at the devil's trap, shaking his head before looking back up at her.

She was staring at him and Dean didn't even think as he reached forward, touching her cheek where the welt had been. Where there was hardly a scratch, hardly a blemish... Tracing her cheekbone, he licked his lips before meeting her eyes. He frowned as he felt that familiar rush inside and he turned away from her.

Oh man, this was bad. This was somehow going to the bad place all over again. The bad place that wasn't a very bad place but a bad place where he shouldn't be taking advantage of her in her weakened state, despite the message her eyes were sending him that he was doing all the right things. Dean felt the fog settling in his head, the hazy, red fog that was pushing him to do only one thing and he closed his eyes to fight it...

And then all thoughts fled as he felt her tongue touch his thumb where it hovered over her mouth and his eyes shot to meet hers. She was staring at him, her lids hooded. She licked her lips and he felt it brush his thumb again. He blinked slowly, his mind starting to cloud as he stared at her. He absently felt one of her hands rubbing his arm when she reached up with the other and pulled his head down.

It was like something snapping inside of him as she pressed her lips to his, like something igniting inside him and suddenly the dream didn't happen, her wounds hadn't happened, their angry words were nonexistent. Nothing mattered but the feeling of her lips on his, her warm body so close... nothing mattered but Buffy. Having Buffy. Being with Buffy. Being inside Buffy.

She let out a little groan as he pressed her further into the pillow, not taking a moment to wonder if it was something he was making her feel or if he was hurting her. He felt all his worry disappearing, felt his fear, felt everything but her disappearing as he thrust his tongue into her mouth and she responded in kind, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she pulled him down on top of her.

He groaned against her lips before kissing her even harder, pushing her further into the bed as he hovered over her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he suddenly pulled her close and rolled so she was lying on top of him, their lips never losing contact as his hands roamed down her back before pushing underneath her shirt, his fingers connecting with the hot skin on her back. She moaned in his mouth, her body rubbing against his and he wondered why the hell he was still wearing pants.

He didn't think about how he just ran into her again after two years of nothing just twenty-four hours earlier. He didn't think about anything in between then and now. He didn't think about how frustrated he had been before finding her bleeding to death in the sewer. He didn't think about the horror, the guilt, the pain at the sight of the devil's trap carved into her skin or what it meant or what it was doing to her. He didn't care that he should be worried as hell that just a few hours earlier she had barely been able to move and now she was pinning him to the bed.

He didn't even give a rat's fucking ass that he was married to this crazy chick.

He only cared that she didn't stop touching him, how good it felt when her teeth nipped at his lips as she kissed him savagely, her fingers digging into his muscles as she held him close, moaning his name in a breathless tone.

And then his ass started vibrating.

Buffy let out a little gasp at the sensation, the vibrations so strong it felt like his entire pelvis was vibrating along with the little piece of plastic crap and she broke from the kiss, her eyes half closed as she looked down at him, panting. Dean absently reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, his eyes lighting on her swollen lips, the tiny abrasion on her cheek from his stubble... all of it making her look sexier with each passing second. His other hand was so far up the back of her shirt he was gripping the back of her neck as she licked her lips, making him forget how to breathe.

"You're vibrating," she whispered in a heated voice and Dean stared back at her, trying to find a way to catch his breath while still kissing, confused for a second when he felt the vibrations hit again.

And then he closed his eyes in annoyance, gritting his teeth as he snuck his hand back to grab his phone from his back pocket. He was pretty sure his fingers grabbed it and that he was pulling it out as Buffy dipped down, nuzzling her face against his neck where she gently kissed him before sucking on the skin a little harder. His hips jerked up at the sensation and he growled her name, the hand that was still up her shirt gripping her tightly, his phone forgotten as he found her lips again.

Lightening in a bottle. That was one way to describe her kisses. Lava was also a nice alternative because right then he felt like he could burn down that fucking hotel with how much he wanted to rip off all their clothes and take her.

He vaguely heard his phone vibrating once more on the bedspread beside them and he knew he should stop the kiss, that he should remove Buffy from where she was on top of him and answer his phone like a responsible person - like a responsible brother because he was sure it was Sam... But he didn't want to. He couldn't. He couldn't stop kissing her, he couldn't stop touching her.

Buffy moved to break away again, her head turned to look at the phone but Dean moved for her, picking it up and tossing it onto the carpet across the room. It landed with a dull thud on the thick floor and Buffy managed to let out a little chuckle before Dean's lips found hers again.

And then all that mattered was each other.

Dean's hands flowed across her back, bringing up goose bumps as her heated skin met the chilled room. He felt one of her hands sneaking down between them, finding the edge of his shirt and shoving her hand up, her nails scratching at him, teasing him as she traced his muscles lightly, her little hand feeling so hot against his heated skin. God, it felt fucking amazing. He groaned in the back of his throat, his breathing getting heavier as she started grinding herself against him, pressing her heat right against the seam of his pants. He could feel her through the material, feel how hot she was.

One hand found her ass as the other found her bare breasts under her shirt and she let out a desperate keen when he pressed her harder against him, his fingers pinching her nipple. Buffy ripped her lips away, moaning deep in her throat as she arched her back to get a better angle and Dean couldn't take his eyes off her. Her mouth gaped with pleasure as she moved her hips and he watched her bite her bottom lip.

"Oh..." she whispered, using his chest as leverage as she arched her back further and Dean took advantage, reaching up to push her shirt up, out of the way, exposing her breasts and he heard her breathing increase. Leaning up, he dropped a kiss on one breast, one hand cupping the other before he sucked her nipple into his mouth. She choked out his name again, one hand in his hair, gripping it painfully as she worked herself on top of him.

Time seemed to move too quickly while standing still as Buffy's grinding got more urgent and Dean reached up, grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her down so he could devour her lips, his own hips moving in time with hers as he groaned his pleasure into her mouth. She mewled against him, her fingernails digging into his shoulder as she started whimpering.

Dean fell back on the bed, pulling her with him. Her hair fell around them, giving them a feeling of security as Dean's hands roved all over body. He didn't waste one more second before slipping his hand in her pants, into her panties and finding her slick heat, his fingers immediately finding her little nub and Buffy gasped with pleasure, her hips moving quicker against his fingers.

She moaned his name, digging her forehead against his and Dean breathed harshly against her face, fighting the urge to roll them over and just take her without any preamble. She was so wet, his fingers were so hot and he moved them with knowledge, remembering exactly what she liked.

Buffy melted even more against him as he pressed a finger inside her, before adding another. His thumb worked her clit as he pumped his fingers inside her, adding a third and he felt how tightly she was holding him, how hard she was gripping his shoulders as she repeated his name, the damn scene feeling so erotic Dean was ready to explode.

She moved her hips in time with his fingers, moving quicker as she climbed, and he watched her bite her lip again before kissing him. Dean met her with equal vigor, their tongues dueling passionately and he brought his knees up for leverage as he worked her. She broke the kiss, gasping, "Oh my god, Dean... Dean, Dean... don't stop... Don't..."

"Come for me, Buffy," he mumbled against her lips before kissing her again and his thumb moved quicker, her hips moved faster before her body stiffened, exploding, as she came against his hand.

"Dean-" He pulled her lips into another kiss, swallowing her moans as he continued stroking her and her body jerked on top of his, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him closer to her. Her walls squeezed his fingers rhythmically, pulling them deeper inside her as she ground against him, riding out the sharp waves of pleasure as she mewled against his mouth, before finally falling limply on top of him. Dean wrapped his other arm around her waist, holding her close.

Breathing heavily, Buffy rested her head on his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck and Dean moved his wet fingers in her panties, making her squirm as he rested his hand on her bare hip. She moaned his name, nuzzling her face against him and Dean turned his face towards her, her hair tickling his nose as he held her.

Buffy let out a content moan, stretching her body along his and Dean gritted his teeth, ducking his head to capture her lips when they heard it.

Someone banged their knee against the coffee table out in the living room, followed quickly by a short, "Fuck me." Neither of them budged when they heard Faith kick the coffee table in frustration and it moved a few feet from its original position before they heard her come towards the bedroom.

"For the love of burnt-ass Jesus toast," she groaned and both Buffy and Dean turned to look at her where she stood at the entrance to the bedroom, rubbing her shin. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

He felt Buffy's heart rate suddenly skyrocket and he tightened his hold on her, shaking his head minutely as Faith moved right past the bed like they weren't even there. She moved towards the bathroom in the dark room, a hand in her hair as she grumbled to herself under her breath, sounding like she was still asleep, "Seriously, B, I get that you're horny and all and that your loins are probably all on fire with lusties for this piece of crap dude but you really gotta kick him to the curb."

And then she closed the bathroom door behind her, not looking back once and Buffy turned back to Dean with wide eyes before smiling slightly, almost guiltily. Dean frowned at her, looking affronted as they had a silent conversation and she rolled her eyes before settling her head back where it had been. Her breath felt cool against his neck.

Dean was perfectly prepared to just lie like that until Faith left the bedroom again. But then he moved the hand in her pants and he felt Buffy arch into the touch, almost like her body had a life of its own. Her breathing deepened as Dean moved his hips and Buffy moved in to kiss his neck. Christ, he was so ready that he was pretty sure he would come the minute he got in her and the mere possibility of Faith walking in on them didn't even matter anymore.

The haze settled in again, their lips finding each other and Dean ripped his hand out of her pajama pants, hitching her leg up farther on his hip as he rolled them over so he was hovering over her, their lips never breaking apart. She pulled her legs up, hooking her ankles as she cradled him against her body. He felt her nails digging into his neck, his scalp as they kissed each other fervently, her hips lifting to meet him as he pushed himself against her. His pants were so damn tight and he was so damn hard, and he felt everything as she met his movements, pulling him closer against her, little cries falling from her throat. He whispered her name as one of her hands flitted down towards his pants, her fingers starting to pull the belt loose...

And then the bedroom light came on.

"You horny jackasses!" Faith said loudly behind them. Both Buffy and Dean squinted against the harsh light but Dean didn't get a chance to turn around and tell Faith to screw off, that her timing was complete crap, that she was a walking, talking version of a wet blanket, because she had reached across the bed and grabbed the back of his pants and yanked.

The thick material of his jeans hurt like burning hell as they dug into his skin and he let out a little yelp as she dragged him off of Buffy and across the bed. Buffy sat up in shock, her eyes blinking rapidly against the light, watching Faith pull Dean, letting him land on his feet before shoving him away from the bed.

"Damn it!" Dean snapped as he stumbled, falling on his ass - a-freaking-gain! Buffy scrambled off the bed as Faith pointed at him where he stood painfully.

"You," Faith snapped, pointing at him as Dean rubbed his waist, glaring at her where knew he would have a bruise from that manhandling. Buffy was on her feet, her eyes wide as she moved towards her sister Slayer. "Outta here. Now."

"Faith-" Buffy started, grabbing her arm but Faith cut her off.

"And you!" Faith said, turning to her before pausing as she took her in. Dean didn't blame her. Buffy more than looked like she had just been given the ride of her life. Her hair was mussed, aptly called sex hair; she had tiny abrasions all over her face and neck and her lips were swollen. Her cheeks were still flushed and Dean took a moment to both feel a bit of pride and little more than a second dose of horniness before realizing the pants pulling had hurt the freaking hell out of his junk. He made a tender face as he readjusted himself while Buffy and Faith faced each other.

"Wow," Faith mused knowingly but Buffy cut her off.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Buffy demanded angrily, her hands on her hips. She chanced a glance at Dean before going back to glaring daggers at Faith.

"Better question, B," Faith retorted. "What the hell are _you_ doing?"

"That is none of your damn business-"

"The hell it isn't!" Faith replied and Buffy's face narrowed in anger. Faith waved a hand at Dean. "Pull your head out of your ass, B. This guy shows up out of nowhere after years of ditching out and suddenly you can't keep your damn pants on, we're getting attacked by creepy black-eyed creeps in the sewer, you're getting your little belly cut open and here's Hubby Prince Charming," she continued, her voice thick with sarcasm, turning to give Dean a hard, hard look. "Swooping in to save the day when he's probably the one _causing _the bad day."

"You can't be serious," Buffy responded, managing to get a word in before Faith cut her off.

"I'm serious as a heart attack, B," Faith replied, glaring at Buffy. "Your priorities are what my priorities usually are - see anything wrong with this picture?"

"Uh..." Dean managed and Faith gave him the dirtiest look he had seen in a long time and he felt the urge to step back... it was the same look she had given him yesterday. Like she wanted to hurt him. And would.

"Maybe you should do a little more asking of the questions instead of sucking the face, huh?" she continued before giving Buffy a long look.

"How dare you," Buffy responded slowly, her eyes getting gloriously furious. "Like you're really one to question who I sleep with."

"I've never hidden the fact that I sleep with assholes, Buffy," Faith replied. "At least I can see it when they're dirt bags."

"Hey, hello," Dean threw in edgewise, feeling a little offended, but neither paid attention.

"This isn't his fault," Buffy bit out and Faith reacted by grabbing her left hand, the very hand that held the evidence of where all the shenanigans began and Dean felt his own ring burn against his skin and he squeezed it into a fist, the moment becoming more and more sour as that reality check got a little heavier. He suddenly remembered what had happened back in the motel room, when Buffy had been attacked... when they had carved a devil's trap into her skin... and here they were, sexing it up like old times, like nothing was wrong, like a million shitty things weren't happening that needed serious answers...

"No?" Faith asked sarcastically, throwing Buffy's hand back at her. Dean didn't miss Buffy's blush as she shot him a guilty look before focusing on Faith again. "'Cause from where I'm standing, it looks like you got a little hot for the hanky panky with an old boy toy and he sees himself a golden Slayer kiddie bag."

"What?" Buffy and Dean asked simultaneously and Faith raised an eyebrow.

"Those demons have our girl," Faith said slowly, pointing towards the window. "Three for the price of one, were you even listening yesterday?" She pointed at Dean. "Maybe he's the distraction while they stow up mini-Slayer and bleed her dry, huh?"

"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked as Dean shook his head in the background, asking, "What?" again.

"Ask that one more time and see what happens," Faith shot back at Dean and he immediately smirked at her, almost like a 'bring it on, bitch' and Faith shook her head in disbelief, making a fist and moving towards him.

But Buffy didn't let her, snatching her arm and pulling her back before throwing her hands in the air, closing her eyes as she yelled, "Okay, enough!"

"Buffy-"

"No," Buffy said at Faith before pointing towards the bedroom door. "I need to talk to Dean."

"You've got another thing coming, B, if you think I'm leaving you alone with him." Faith glared at Dean. "Again."

"Faith, I..." Buffy shook her head as she tried to think before running her hands through her hair. "I can't think with you two at each other's throats, okay? I get that you're freaked." Faith snorted. "I do. But please, I need… I need a minute."

For a few seconds, Faith just stared at Buffy, her face incredulous before she sneered, shaking her head as she stalked towards the bedroom door.

"Whatever," she said, grabbing what she had had with her from the couch when Dean had brought Buffy up before waving her hand dismissively at them. "Just trying to play the 'protect your loved ones' part or whatever but if you want to spend all day getting your ass screwed, go for it." As she left the room, her voice carried as she said, "Your funeral, B."

And then she was gone.

Buffy stared at the dark, empty living room, her mouth open as she tried to process the whirlwind Faith had left behind. She blinked for a minute before shaking her head, letting out a humorless laugh.

"Wow. Best trip ever," she said, her voice dry as she rubbed her face before running her fingers through her hair again and sitting on the edge of the bed. She bowed her head as Dean moved towards her slowly. She didn't react as he sat down next to her, leaning forward.

"Yeah," was all he said and Buffy turned to look at him, a small smile on her face. Dean gave her one in return, licking his lips before looking away. "She's got a hand up on me in the castration department but… she had a point."

"Oh, so you are stealing Slayers all over the country and making them disappear?" Buffy asked lightly.

Dean frowned at her. "Uh, no. I was more thinking along the lines of..." He lifted his left hand, wiggling his fingers at her.

Buffy nodded, looking down. "Right."

"And… what?"

Buffy shook her head, rubbing her forehead. "Nothing… It's why we're here. Missing Slayer. Newbie. On her own." She gave him a wry look. "That's why we were down in the sewers last night."

Dean nodded slowly. "Ah."

"Of course, that was before the whole 'hey, let's elope!' thing," Buffy continued on, her voice forcibly light and he could see right through it as she shook her head, her eyes closed.

"Yeah."

He didn't know what else to say. He didn't have anything else to say. She was trying to make light of the entire thing because she knew there was a lot of shit that needed to be made light of. This had quickly turned into an avalanche of screw-ups. First, married. Second, cursed. Third, can't keep his damn hands to himself because of said curse. Fourth, feelings for this woman that he had really wanted to stay buried and were wreaking havoc on his nerves. Fifth, demons. Sixth, girly drama. Seventh, Slayer issues. Eighth, brother problems that were way, way above his pay grade.

He was sure that there would quickly be a ninth, a tenth, an eleventh...

And then Dean remembered the dream and he felt a chill fall down his spine. His eyes found his phone where he had thrown it across the room and he frowned, feeling a wave of guilt slam into his chest. That had seemed like a really, really good idea at the time, when she had been in his arms. Where nothing else mattered.

Right, curse. Not exactly the worst curse, being unable - unwilling - to stop touching her but damn, it definitely wasn't good...

Dean got up and went to his phone where it blinked at him on the floor. Leaning down, he picked it up and flipped it open, seeing he had missed two calls from Sam and had two text messages waiting for him. He didn't open them yet as he closed it with a snap, turning back to Buffy. She was watching him, chewing on her bottom lip and the warmth that had been propelling everything just a few minutes ago started filling him again and he forced himself to look away.

"Who was calling you?"

"Sam," he replied tightly. He gave her a blithe smile as he stood across the room from her. He fought the urge to cross his arms and toe the line he felt being drawn between them. He kinda wished they could just go back to where they had been before Faith the Wet Blanket had trundled in… things had been simple. Boy plus girl equals happy. But the shitty thing was that the fun parts were getting in way of the important parts. As usual.

"I should probably go."

"Right," Buffy replied as she stood from the bed, awkwardly running her palms down her thighs like they were wet. "Uh... tell Sam I didn't think our first meeting went very well."

Dean gave her a crappy smile, closing the distance between them again. "Yeah, unconscious Slayer... Not exactly the greeting he was expecting."

Buffy nodded, moving to say something more when Dean touched her cheek again.

"That's amazing," he said in a rough voice and Buffy leaned into his touch, her eyes finding his and he took in a shaky breath as the haze started settling down around them again. He opened his mouth to tell her this was a bad idea but instead of saying something, he narrowed his eyes, trying to think of ways to step back... before he found her hand, their fingers tangling and then she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him towards her and then they were kissing.

Dean responded just as eagerly, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she stood on her toes to reach him better, pressing her body against his and he pushed a hand up the nape of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair, both of them remembering how delicious they had made the other feel such a short time ago and oh hey, they were right next to the bed...

And just like that, the idea of staying there, of laying her down on the bed and having his way with her, sounded so much better than anything else ever and Dean almost got lost in the moment before his brain screamed 'red alert' and he stopped, pulling away from her, his lips immediately feeling the loss. He stepped back, dropping his arms as he put a few feet between them.

"Okay," he said slowly and Buffy wiped her lips absently. Dean frowned at her, making himself look away. God, she just had to stand there and she looked sexy as hell. He shook his head. "This is, uh..."

"Crazy," Buffy supplied, her voice cracking a little and Dean nodded.

"Yeah," he replied in a low, distracted voice, his eyes darting all over the room to find something to focus on that wasn't Buffy related.

"Research, right?" Buffy continued. "Now that I'm on my way to the Land o' Healing, maybe we should try getting this whole..." She waved her hands between them, swallowing. "Thing under control."

"Definitely."

"And you should bring Sam," she continued and Dean frowned at her as he thought about his brother.

"What?"

"The next time you come," she continued, holding her hand out to him before blushing at her choice of words. "And I'll bring Faith. And... Giles! And everyone can meet. Since we're..." She tried to smile, the next words coming out breathless, "Since we're married. Since we need to find a way to be un… married."

"Okay," Dean said slowly. He stared at her again as he thought about turning and leaving. But he didn't want to as they stared at each other. It was a pretty potent mixture of really wanting to do two things at the same time, like his mind was telling him one thing and his body was urging him to do something that promised to be a thousand times better. He thought about saying something more, something reassuring, something that would make light of the tension in the air, the confusion…

But he had nothing.

With effort, Dean turned away from her and moved into the living room. His shoes were out there. At least he remembered them being out there. He found them sitting by the front door.

He shoved his feet into them without bothering to tie anything as he looked around for his jacket, his body already feeling hot and cold at the same time as it realized Buffy wasn't in the same room; he felt a tug to go back into the bedroom and a deep loss as he moved further from her… like he had walked away from something he desperately needed…

Dean turned in a circle, trying to make his mind remember what he was doing when the living room light came on and Buffy came towards him, his leather jacket in her hands. She smiled, handing it to him.

"Thanks," he replied gruffly, shrugging it on, checking his pockets and finding the gun and flask were still there. He glanced at her and she wrapped her arms around herself, looking unsure… And without thinking, only seeing Buffy, he leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss, shocking both of them at the simplicity of it.

Dean leaned back, blinking down at her before doing a tiny double take. The rush of heat, of the fire, came back tenfold and he stared at her, his brow furrowed as the sensations enveloped him… And then he attacked, pushing her against the wall, his lips on hers again as she moaned his name and he picked her up, pushing her high up on the wall as he started kissing down her jawline, finding her neck, finding her scar…

"Dean, we can't…" Buffy managed to gasp before he licked the raised skin and she responded by grabbing his hair to yank his lips from her neck so she could kiss him. Dean felt her painful nips on his lips, her needy moans as she wrapped her legs around his waist…

And then he stopped, stepping back as she slid back down onto unsure legs and he watched her hold the wall for support as he moved away from her. He ran into the door before he found the door handle behind him and he turned it, opening the room to the hallway. "I'm… gonna go."

"Yeah," was all Buffy said and then he was gone, not bothering to make sure the door closed as he immediately made his way to the elevators. His eyes were wide as he stabbed the call button, shaking his head before rubbing his face roughly, smelling the remnants of Buffy on his fingers. He turned to glance back at Buffy's door and saw it was closed, thank the goddamn gods. He knew if he saw the door open just a crack or saw Buffy for a split second, he would turn and head right back in there…

Dean didn't want to think about anything Buffy-related for five seconds - he felt the beginnings of insanity melting his brain - and he grabbed his phone from his pocket, flipping it open to see what Sam had wanted.

One text was from earlier that morning. He saw it was now around 4 a.m. so it must have been after Sam had gotten back to the motel after Dean had kicked him out. It said, "Reading dad's journal call me."

He felt his stomach tighten at the words. The second was from earlier when it had interrupted him shoving his tongue down Buffy's throat.

All it said was, "Call me had a nightmare need to talk."

* * *

**A/N**: There was originally a great deal more plot in this update but we needed some Buffy/Dean fuzziness, IMO. I hope you liked the update! Thank you for the favorites, follows and awesome reviews - please let me know what you're thinking so far, I really, really love it and reader perception does help shape the story. Thank you!

**A/N 2**: Once (and whenever the hell that will be) this story is finished, I'll be posting a ton of deleted/alternate scenes - this is why it's taking me so long to get the updates out, I keep changing my mind. :P


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_Two Years and Nine Months Ago_

Dean had died and gone to heaven.

Or at least as close to heaven as one could get in this little box of a cabin-motel-combination scrap heap.

But this heaven also included a short little blonde wearing barely-there pajama shorts and a huge sweatshirt that, if she stood up, would make it look like she had nothing on to cover her happy parts. The heaven part came in like a roaring blaze of 'holy mother of god, if you stop, I'll keel over' because she was leaning over into the trunk of the Impala, trying to reach something that had fallen towards the back.

Dean just stopped where he was across the parking lot, taking in the sight. He gripped the railing of the rickety stairs from the second-floor level, the sky barely lightning as he saw her lift the cover to his weapons and reach back through there to no avail.

And the damn shorts were climbing up as she bent further and Dean's mouth felt dry.

Normally this would have sent him off the rails, seeing someone - much less her - rummaging through his baby but this made up for every smartass remark he usually had waiting. Because holy hell. He caught a glimpse of her ass cheeks over the distance and he cocked his head, unable to tear his eyes away, thinking about all the wonderful things he could do if he just walked right up with his very nubile fingers to that very fine ass... the feel of her warmth, slipping his hand up her shorts, Buffy moaning his name as he pressed her forward and…

"Dean!"

"Whoa, what, yeah?" Dean snapped in response, shaking himself from his Buffy-bottom reverie, remembering the phone in his hand. He grimaced. "Yeah, sorry, I'm here."

"You sure about that?" John echoed on the other side and Dean bit the tip of his tongue, glancing once more at Buffy before making his way down the loud, crappy metal stairs. "This is kind of important."

"I know-"

"And if you aren't with me one hundred percent, maybe we should rethink this whole going off on your own thing," his father continued, the not-so-silent derogatory note in his voice bouncing in Dean's head.

"No, no, I'm good, I swear." Dean paused at the base of the stairs, his eyes once again finding her ass as Buffy pulled out of the trunk, slapping her hands against her thighs in frustration. He was right about that sweatshirt. "I'm listening."

"Well, perk up," John continued. "There's been more activity at that crater in California. A lot of vampires using it as their new nest egg."

"Oh..." Dean replied, nodding his head as his father continued rattling off facts. He made his way slowly towards his car, watching her. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head and he thought he saw a stain on the back of her shirt that looked a lot like old coffee. Normally the whole morning thing with chicks wasn't his thing. He didn't like seeing the morning results and the disappointment that usually followed. But on her? Dean made a happy face as he realized she made morning look damn good.

"I'm heading there now; I'm about a half day's drive out. You still over near Virginia?"

"Uh," Dean said, forcing his eyes away from Buffy as she leaned back over, searching his brain for what his father was saying as he pictured Buffy spread-eagled on his hood. "Uh, yeah. Virginia, yes, sir."

"Then I might miss you if you head over yourself but I want you to come help out. A lot of activity for a big hole in the ground, might be something big."

"Will do."

"And check your oil before you head out, I don't need you calling me and telling me you've shredded that engine." And with that, John hung up. Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, giving it a look before shutting it with a loud slap. Check the oil - he took better damn care of that car than his father used to. Although he'd never, _ever _say that to his face.

He licked his lips as Buffy, either not paying attention or doing an amazing job of ignoring him, leaned into the trunk as far as she could, reaching towards the back, something she was struggling with as she stood on her toes. He gave a silent laugh, knowing that that trunk was not that damn deep but he always forgot how tiny she was. And how much strength hid inside that deceptive little frame.

Dean approached her, purposefully keeping his feet light as he bent in next to her, bracing each hand on either side of her lithe body, asking, "Need a little help, miss?"

Instead of melting into his arms with a grateful smile and an offer to thank him by removing the tiny shorts, Buffy jumped up, letting out a little shriek before spinning to face him. She didn't have to think - she jammed her elbow into Dean's shoulder before her fist met with his nose in a quick blur of limbs.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow!" Dean growled, stumbling away from her, cupping his nose as Buffy's hands flew to her face, her eyes wide in horror and shock.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," she blurted, leaning over to see if he was okay and Dean just glared back at her.

"What the hell you'd do that for?" he snapped, staring at the ground, touching the bridge of his nose.

"Me?" she snapped back. Dean pulled his hand away from his aching face to see if there was any blood, his face stuck in an ugly grimace. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Uh, wondering what the hell the annoying skinny-ass blonde I'm traveling with was doing with her face in my trunk," Dean replied, moving to rub his shoulder where she had elbowed him. Christ, she could hit. "Which, now that we're back on topic, what the hell are you doing in there?"

Buffy opened her mouth to snap back something sarcastic and retorty but nothing came as she crossed her arms, looking sheepish. She waved at the trunk. "I lost… Mr. Pointy."

"Mr. Pointy?" Dean asked incredulously. Buffy narrowed her eyes, watching his face go through every possible thing that Mr. Pointy could be referring to and she could already see where he was going with it. "Uh, toy or weapon?"

Buffy shot him a disgusted look. "My god, do you ever think about anything else? It's a stake, you idiot."

"Ah," Dean replied with a huge grin.

She shook her head. "And ew. Not even funny."

Dean smirked at her before he saw his keys dangling from the lock of the trunk. He frowned, pointing at them. "Where'd you get those?"

"You," Buffy replied simply before turning back to the trunk. "Now, use your freakishly long man arms to get back there, please. Your stupid weapon thing is too big."

"Me? I would never, ever... _ever _let you near my car. I barely let you sit in it without first duct taping you to the seat so you don't touch anything after the unmentionable ice cream incident." Buffy glanced innocently over her shoulder as Dean reached his conclusions, actually looking violated and she bit her lips to keep from smiling. "You stole my keys."

"Life lesson, Dean, don't stand three millimeters away from me every single time we're in a room together."

"You snaked 'em from me?" Buffy just shook her head, rolling her eyes to the sky as Dean continued, "And I was not standing three millimeters from you. That reception area was freakishly tiny."

"Whatever. Just, please… help me find it?"

"Oh, hell no, princess," he retorted, his nickname for her rolling off his tongue too easily and eliciting the response it always did from her: a look full of unequivocal rage. He smirked, stepping forward and grabbing his keys, slamming his trunk shut. "Mr. _Pointy_," he said, dangling his keys at her, "Will be staying where he is until you apologize for stealing my keys."

"What?"

Dean just shrugged as she glanced at the trunk with more longing than Dean could have imagined her feeling for a stake and he wondered if it really was a stake after all.

"I am so not apologizing."

"Then you're so not getting your stake, are you?" Dean replied sweetly.

Buffy stared at him, her mouth gaped before throwing her hands in the air. "You are the most infuriating person I have ever freaking met! And that is _saying_ something!"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Dean said, smirking at her. He raised an eyebrow when he caught a glimpse of her blue pajama bottoms before making a show of memorizing every inch of leg she was showing. "Nice shorts."

Buffy gritted her teeth, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms. "I have eyes, you know," she said, her voice on the verge of suggesting physical violence and Dean put his hands up.

"Hey, just enjoying what you offered the entire parking lot to see," he said and Buffy blushed slightly before brushing her hair from her face. Her hair that, now that Dean was paying attention, looked like she had just rolled out of bed. Goddamn this woman, she was making nothing easy.

"Alright, here's what we'll do," he started, watching her face get darker. "I'll open this trunk, I'll turn it upside down until I find 'Mr. Pointy,' but you have to do one thing for me." He held up a finger.

Buffy frowned. "What?"

"You have to wear those shorts all day, everywhere we go."

She blanched at him as Dean looked far too pleased with himself. "What? No, that's ridiculous."

"A stake called Mr. Pointy is ridiculous, sweetheart," he said, stressing the word as he watched her color rise a little. It was too damn easy to get a rise out of her. After just a few months together on the road, he knew this from spectacular experience that Buffy Summers, Bitch Slayer Extraordinaire, was extremely sensitive to pet names, to losing fights, to getting one-upped in fights and to him.

It made everything a little too much fun.

Buffy couldn't believe what she was hearing. She clenched her teeth together as tightly as she could, delighting in the pressure in her jaw as she fought the urge to do something really painful to him like... like flick him in the eye. But then again, this was a day that ended in 'y' meaning it was another day that Dean Winchester was finding a way to get under her skin, to piss her off, to push her as far as he could.

He was like a toddler testing his boundaries to see how much he could get away with. And he was extremely lucky that she was aware of the fact that he was a human being which meant stabbing him in the throat with a spoon was not okay. But sometimes... she really wanted to. Like right now, the way he was looking at her like she was a strawberry popsicle, making her feel a little too warm in some spots, spots that shouldn't be warmed by anything related to him.

None of it was helped that she still found him utterly gorgeous, utterly... completely and totally gorgeous in that rough around the edges sort of way. In that kind of way that she had spent a great deal of time imagining exactly how his stubble would feel on the inside of her thighs before she shut the thought down.

He was a good person to have on her side in a fight, hence the reason for her sticking around. Yes, that was the only reason she stuck around, drove around in that obnoxiously loud car and listened to him sing in what would be a very good voice but he botched every single song on purpose because he saw her rolling her eyes at him. She only stuck around because he was a good partner, he knew his crap when it came to hunts and he didn't underestimate her.

They had even become something akin to friends…

"No."

"Then no stake."

"Dean."

"Buffy," he replied mockingly with a huge grin. Buffy let out an exasperated sigh.

"I'll get in that trunk one way or another, you know. I'm very... good at... sneaking into things," she finished lamely. She glanced once more at the trunk, feeling a tiny bit of panic set in as she realized she hadn't seen Mr. Pointy in days. After a strange dream involving a tree trying to bite her and her pulling off one of its branches to stake it, Buffy had woken up with it on her mind. And then she had torn apart the motel room. Then she had torn apart her suitcases before calming down and rationalizing with herself that it was in the trunk. She remembered it being in the trunk but she also thought she had grabbed it. And if she had left it anywhere else, Dean was in for a sorry-ass attitude downgrade when she informed him that they were going to be backtracking until they found it.

It hadn't left her side in years, not since long after Sunnydale had collapsed. She had found it sitting in a drawer before the town went kablooey... the one and only thing she had from Kendra. She had rediscovered it around the time when Faith and the other girls had played the temporary 'toss Buffy The Boss out' act and she had been feeling especially vulnerable. So, she had taken it with her, a weird reassurance from ghostly Kendra, someone she knew would have understood the pressure she was under, the decisions she was making… And she had taken it everywhere with her since.

Until she couldn't find the damn thing.

Buffy huffed. "Dean, please."

"Please what?" Buffy rolled her eyes and Dean chuckled again before relenting, stepping up and unlocking the trunk again. "Okay, okay."

"You're not funny," Buffy said, stepping up next to him as he lifted the cover to the weapons cache. Dean smirked in return.

"It was a little funny."

"A little not funny."

"I see your little-ass shorts don't make you very quippy in the morning." Buffy slapped the back of her hand against Dean's shoulder, right where she had elbowed him and he gasped in pain. "Hey!"

"Don't be a pig."

"Don't be a pig," Dean mocked under his breath. He stared at his weapons. "What's it look like?"

"A stake, jackass."

"Is it pointy?" Buffy glared at the back of his head as he leaned in, his fingers reaching behind the weapons easily where it immediately felt a very smooth piece of long, curved wood. He pulled it out, pretty impressed when he saw it was indeed an extremely pointy stake. Obscenely pointy and he jumped when Buffy let out a little squeal.

"That's it!" Buffy said, clapping her hands. She snatched it away from him. "I thought I'd lost it."

Dean stared at her. "You have literally fifty other stakes on your person at all times, what the hell is so special about that one?"

Buffy just smiled at him, her dour mood instantly improved as she tossed the stake in the air, catching it expertly before holding it to her chest, her hand sliding into its well-worn spot. "A good friend gave it to me."

"Jeez, if that's all it takes to get a smile out of you," Dean mused, letting the cover fall back on the weapons before closing the trunk again. He glanced at Buffy and caught her staring at him, a very wide grin on her face. A smile full of teeth and dimples and everything. Dean couldn't help himself, smiling back. "What?"

"You are so insanely annoying," she said in a bright voice and Dean frowned at her. She chuckled before stepping up, pressing her lips to his cheek, surprising him with the sudden mood change. "And thank you."

"Uh, sure."

Dean stared after her as she went back to her room. This time, instead of her ass cheeks, he noticed the little extra bounce in her step and he felt a little guilty when he realized he had been fully prepared to hold out on looking in the trunk if it meant her staying in those shorts - guilty because she just looked so damn giddy. But he knew she wouldn't, she would never dare do that. This was the first time he had ever seen her without makeup and without a shower much less in those tiny little shorts which meant that stupid stake meant a whole lot to her.

Dean licked his lips as she thought about her being giddy about wearing those itty bitty little shorts as she sat on his face…

Dean felt a little perturbed when he realized he wouldn't mind seeing Buffy like this again. All rumpled and cranky. It was oddly cute. No. Not cute, sexy. She definitely had the sexy part down and all she had done was yell at him.

Dean shook his head at himself. He headed towards his side of the car, swinging the door open and pulling out his handy map to route their new destination, fighting the urge to look up and check and see if she was on her way out yet. Because they had to leave. Not because he wanted to see her, see what she was wearing and how many different ways he would be able to look down her shirt.

They were Sunnydale, California bound as Dean found a road out of Virginia.

And maybe swing by Stanford, get a little looky-loo at little Sammy. Make sure things were on the up and up with him before touching down in the crater that used to be a town.

* * *

_The sun was hot and beating into the car as they sped down some random highway. It was enough to make Buffy want to peel off her shirt and toss it out the window. She wiped her forehead, leaning further down in the passenger seat, closing her eyes as the sun pierced through the open window, making her feel like she was laying in a tanning bed that was up way, way too high. This should feel good. This should feel relaxing and easy and comfortable, she had grown up in this..._

_But it only made her feel very, very hot. And sticky. And... just damn hot._

_It was made even more weird because there should have been air coming through her window but she only felt the heat of the sun, warming her skin._

_Buffy's eyes jerked open when she felt the car slowing down as Dean pulled the Impala to a stop, hitting a little dip in the side of the road. Buffy sat up, looking around, seeing nothing but open field and a whole bunch of empty road._

"_Why are we stopping?" Buffy asked quizzically, looking around for something out of the ordinary or just plain supernatural-y when she turned to look at Dean. And Dean was staring right at her, his eyes dark, his face intense. "Dean, what's wrong?"_

"_Nothing," he said softly, reaching forward to tuck a piece of wayward hair behind her ear. Buffy shivered at his touch, glancing at his hand in confusion before returning her eyes to his. "I just couldn't stand sitting next to you and not being able to touch you."_

"_What?" Buffy blurted and suddenly she realized he wasn't wearing a shirt. "Dean, where's your shirt?"_

_But he didn't say anything as he cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing across her cheekbone before he leaned in and he kissed her. God, did he kiss her. Buffy felt chills spill down her back as she returned the kiss, their lips touching tentatively, gently, before she felt Dean's tongue slide across the seam of her lips and she opened them eagerly. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt his hands everywhere, touching her everywhere as he kissed her._

_Somehow she ended up on her back, cradling him between her legs as he pressed her against the seat, his bare chest so warm against her own and she realized her own shirt was gone, her bra gone, and she shivered as her nipples hardened against his skin. He was touching her everywhere, his hands everywhere, his kisses so good, so delicious..._

_She gasped when she felt his very hard and very..._

Buffy woke with a gasp, sitting up in the passenger seat of the Impala as it roared down some empty, lackluster highway in the middle of nowhere. She blinked against the harshness of the sun before letting loose a few shivers when she felt the too cool air of the chilly day brushing over her sweaty skin.

"Having a nice dream?" she heard from her left and Buffy spun to face Dean, her eyes wide as she opened her mouth to say something but she had nothing. Oh god, she had been dreaming. About Dean. Naked Dean and naked Buffy and doing things that naked people do together and it had felt so amazing, Dream Dean kissing her, touching her and...

"Cows!" she blurted.

Dean raised an eyebrow, looking away from the road to give her a look. "You were dreaming about cows?"

"Yep." Buffy nodded, sitting back rigidly in her seat. She stared out her window. "Bad, evil cows doing... evil things like... trampling pigs. And chickens."

"And I was missing my shirt," Dean continued with an amused smirk. Buffy felt like melting into the leather seat and disappearing forever. She felt her face turn into a tomato as she pinched her lips in embarrassment, her eyes locked on the passing greenery.

"Yeah, the cows... ate your shirt. Very, very... evil cows."

Dean let out a knowing chuckle and Buffy leaned forward, turning up the music, her eyes glued to the scenery, not making a peep.

* * *

_Present_

Buffy eased her hotel door open, glancing down the hallway towards the elevators. She saw him moving into the cab, pressing a button, his face troubled as he stared at his phone, absently shaking out his left hand before looking up right at her as the elevator closed, the shiny gold doors breaking the contact.

Sucking in a deep breath, Buffy closed her eyes against the rush of heat that warmed her chest cavity as she gripped the door as hard as she could. She licked her lips, opening her eyes, grateful to the heavens when she didn't see the doors opening again.

Wow. This was bad. This was more than bad, this was turning into an avalanche of every bad thing that could possibly happen in the space of a few hours. Hadn't it just been a few hours ago that she had been chastising Faith for wanting to go out for a night on the town? For wanting to shirk their duties and shake their booties instead?

Buffy glanced across the hallway at Faith's room. A small, deep and dark and evil part of her wanted to blame Faith. Not in a serious or catastrophic way but she did want to blame her. Because she was the one who wanted to go prancing around the Strip, she was the one who insisted Buffy do a bunch of shots, thus unlocking this crazy wild beast inside her that had somehow found the one guy in all of Las Vegas that had the power to be her undoing...

What were the odds, honestly? The odds were better for her to get pregnant by some random, crazy hobo rather than... whatever this was with Dean Winchester.

Leaning against the doorjamb, Buffy imagined a wave of calm descending on her body. She felt like her skin was humming, alive... and it had everything to do with Dean. Dean being back in her life. Saving her life. Saving both of their lives. Dean holding her, healing her, touching her, having nightmares, being in pain... comforting, pulling Dean into a kiss, his hands all over her body...

"Okay," Buffy said slowly in a long exhale. "I'm... calm. Quiet. Peaceful even..."

Rolling her eyes at herself, Buffy grabbed her room key before stepping out and knocking on Faith's door. There was no response and Buffy frowned, twisting the ring on her finger. Glancing down, she watched her fingers twirl the wedding band, moving so quickly she imagined she should have ring rash or something but it was like it wasn't touching her. Rather, it was hovering.

And it was hot. Very hot. Like jittery-making hot and Buffy sucked in a breath, not realizing she had been holding it when a wave of heat burst through her system and she ripped her hands apart.

"Faith," she yelled, knocking hard, "It's me."

"Whaddya want, blondie?" she heard through the door, the voice muffled and full of annoyance and sarcasm. "I'm not in the mood to hear about any freaky deaky honeymoon plans."

Buffy rolled her shoulders, the humming underneath her skin growing stronger for a moment before dying again. "Faith, just open the door."

"Is lover boy with you?"

"No."

Faith scoffed on the other end and Buffy threw her shoulders up in annoyance. "No, Faith, Dean is gone." Buffy ignored the chill she felt when she said his name. Like a hurricane of sensations, Buffy felt a rush of heat stroke through her insides, the ring humming with intensity, as she remembered how good he had felt, his fingers inside her, his thumb rubbing against her as she exploded around him, his name on her lips...

Strange how she hadn't given two craps about the ring when he was around...

And then Faith's door flew open and Buffy jumped.

"You still look like a bitch in heat," Faith said, waving her hands at Buffy who frowned back in offense before running her hand through her hair and crossing her arms. Faith sighed, rolling her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Well..." She shrugged. "Actually, I did but-"

"Faith, I'm sorry," Buffy said. Faith cocked her head. "I'm sorry about... everything. That you're here, that... that the demons hurt you and that we can't find Victoria and that I'm all..." Buffy waved her hands at herself. "Well, I wouldn't say 'bitch in heat' necessarily but it is kind of a close analogy."

Faith chuckled. "B, it's cool. I mean, I am pissed and all that you chose a guy over me-"

"I didn't choose a guy over you," Buffy said before Faith waved her off.

"It's all good. Trust me, I know exactly what you're feeling right now. And while I don't trust that guy as far as Andrew could throw him, he is a walking, talking stud muffin, so..."

Buffy raised her eyebrows, glancing at the floor, crossing her arms and shoving her hands into her armpits, the humming picking up speed as she thought about said stud muffin. "I don't know if you know _exactly _how this feels."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess," she mused, pointing her finger at the appropriate areas as she went along, "Your little nether lips are all juicy and puffy at the thought of him just being near you, your stomach is all clenched with desire-"

"Okay, ew," Buffy said. Faith laughed as Buffy sighed, looking plaintive. "I am sorry... But I am glad you're here. To help. To pull boys of my bed." Buffy chuckled before shaking her head. "Because this has reached serious scary levels of..." Buffy pressed a hand to her forehead and felt the cool surface of the ring on her heated skin - which was weird because she felt cold compared to the heat the little metal was emanating. "Something scary bad."

"We're good, B," Faith replied, smiling. She leaned against her door. "And don't worry, the cavalry's on its way. Coming to undo curses and find out why your healing superpowers were all broken... Speaking of, you better go get yourself cleaned up because the G-man is due here pretty quick."

"Oh... right…" Buffy said, her face paling as she remembered - once again - that there were bigger things happening other than the knot in her stomach that was telling her to go find Dean and climb him like a tree. "Oh god, Giles is coming."

"Yep."

"He's going to kill me."

"Yeah."

"He's going to… have a Buffy Filet for lunch. A very angrily eaten lunch."

"Probably."

"He's going to want to... talk to me. About my choices. About..." Buffy groaned. "About life decisions and… and boys. He's going to kill me."

"Well, let's start with not giving him a sex-crazed, musky Buffy Filet for lunch, huh?"

"Oh god, Faith, that's so not helping," Buffy said, unable to help herself as she chuckled at the words. And the visual... and then she frowned.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, B." She waved Buffy away towards her room. "Go get your ass cleaned up and repent in the shower like a good little girl. We'll deal with the Daddy-O freak out when he arrives." She gave Buffy another glance over. "We don't need him seeing all the, uh…" Faith wiggled her eyebrows, pointing at Buffy's crotch where a little wet spot was still evident. "Love remains on you."

"Oh god... I am so dead Buffy Lunch."

* * *

Dean's fingers were dancing on the bar when he felt his phone ringing in his pocket; they danced to the tune of Led Zeppelin's "Ramble On" as he stared a hole into the bar top. He didn't see the wood, he didn't hear the cackling sounds of the slot machines behind him or the chitter chatter of the annoyingly bright woman - bright as in she was wearing some lime green spandex top that normally would have been a welcome invitation to stare since you could see every-damn-thing - talking to whoever the hell would listen.

But he ignored her, his thoughts whirling around like lighted dog shit as he tried to think of a solution to the already growing pile of doom.

Pulling out his phone, he didn't even check the screen before flipping it open, his voice distracted. "Yeah?"

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed on the other side. "Where have you been, I've been calling you for an hour!"

Dean nodded his head to himself, cutting off Sammy Berating Hour.

"I can't leave, Sam," he said, his voice matter of fact as he looked up towards the entrance to the hotel.

"What?"

"I can't leave," he said, his voice taking on a note of desperation, shrugging as if Sam could see him, as if Sam understood exactly what he was saying.

He heard him sigh on the other end. He sounded tired as he said, "Dean, I am so not in the mood to hear about your rambunctious sex life. We've got a few more problems, remember?"

But Dean didn't want to hear about what was wrong with Sam. He didn't want to hear about stupid dreams, he didn't want to think about his own stupid dreams, he didn't want to hear anything about Buffy and he sure as hell wanted to get his ass out of the fucking hotel so he could stop thinking about the elevator, about the eleventh floor, about her room, about her being in there, about him being in there...

He had to get out of there.

"I. Can't. Fucking. Leave!" Dean repeated, his voice getting louder before slapping his palm on the bar top, startling Lime Green sitting next to him. He rolled his eyes at her as she shot him a frightened glance before moving away. "I can't leave. I cannot leave this hotel. I can't even go through the doors; I can't even look at the doors without... without... not leaving!"

"Uh... okay..."

"Okay?" Dean spat angrily, his eyebrows raised as he threw an uneasy glance around the casino bar in the lobby of Buffy's hotel. He felt his body humming with need as he thought, for the hundredth time in the space of the last hour, how easy it would be to go find her. His skin was literally fucking humming and Dean grabbed the beer bottle - his fifth - around the next for something to squeeze. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"

"Well, Dean," Sam replied, his voice mockingly calm. "I've been texting and calling you for about six hours now, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who should be a little pissed off," his brother finished with subdued flourish. Dean gritted his teeth as he heard Sam moving around in the tiny motel room like the elephant-sized boy he was. "There're more important things happening-"

"Oh, really?" Dean cut him off, ignoring the barb. "You know, I didn't know. I guess I got distracted by the fact that I can't leave the goddamn hotel, Sam!" He heard another loud Sam sigh on the other end and he abandoned his seat and his 5:30 a.m. beer, heading towards the main entrance's spinning doors with determination. "For the last goddamn hour, I've been sitting here, trying to leave. But I can't! I'm looking at the damn doors right now. And I can't..."

Dean suddenly stopped his quest for the exit, his momentum just disappearing before he felt an intense need to turn right back around and go upstairs. The need was so intense, his stomach clenched, his breath getting a little shallow, and he did find himself turning around, without a conscious thought. He headed towards the elevators like a fucking robot would before making himself stop, stomping his foot on the ground as Sam said his name.

He had already repeated this stupid tap dance about fifty times! And every single time, it got harder to say no.

He couldn't go upstairs. Because Buffy was upstairs. And that was bad. All of it was bad. He couldn't stay in this hotel for one more second because Buffy was upstairs. And every single atom in his body was telling him to get his ass back upstairs. And while normally this would have been a damn welcome feeling and something he would have loved to take advantage of - hell, he'd never said no to her before - but now?

No, no, no, shit was too hairy for them to even be near each other without a buffer. They needed a damn buffer!

They needed a buffer the size of Las Vegas itself where he was on one side, she was on the other, where they could both think about everything going on... instead of being naked, of being hot and sweaty and warm and...

Dean waved his hand in exasperation as he turned to stare forlornly at the entrance. "I can't!"

"You can't what?" Sam repeated in exasperation.

"Leave!"

"You can't leave?"

"No."

"No?"

"I will hurt you, Sammy," Dean said, clenching his hand into a fist as he glowered at the floor, at the sunny tiles glaring at him from the stupid hotel lobby floor where they sat, mocking him, laughing at him.

"So you can't leave the hotel? At all?" Sam asked and Dean finally heard an ounce of worry in his brother's voice before rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Jesus, Sam, open your goddamn ears! No, I can't leave. I get to a certain spot," he said, waving his arms around in emphasis as he pointed at the spot where he always stopped. "And then I just..." Dean paused, unsure of what he should say. "I just stop."

"Huh," was all Sam said.

"Wow, you are really putting on your Smart Boy pants today, aren't you?" Dean said and he could see Sam rolling his eyes on the other side of the phone. Where he really wished he could be. He really wanted to be on the other side of the phone because that would mean that he was where Sam was. Which meant he wouldn't be in this godforsaken hotel lobby, losing his mind and wanting nothing more than to go upstairs where Buffy was probably... taking a shower. Or changing. Or just... staring at her naked self in the mirror... Suddenly Dean was standing next to Buffy in this little daydream and they were both naked and...

Dean shook his head, tapping his knuckles against his forehead as hard as he could, ignoring the way his body immediately lit up at the thought of Naked Buffy.

"I need to get out of here, man," he continued distractedly, walking in a tight circle, ignoring the growing crowd around him. He just wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to leave, leave Buffy alone and let him get an ounce of peace inside his brain. Get to Sammy so they could figure this crap out because this... Dean suddenly whipped his left hand in front of his face, the band on his ring finger feeling really, really hot as his hand started shaking. "I'm losing my goddamn mind."

"Well, what happened?" Sam asked.

"I don't know! It's like... it's like this..." Dean stared at his wedding ring, the fear and desperation to get the hell away from this place - because all he wanted to do was fucking stay - quickly melted into ill-placed rage.

His fucking wedding ring.

Fucking curse.

"This stupid ring on my stupid finger!" he yelled at his hand. A young woman walking by jumped at his raised voice and he glared at her to which she replied with a healthy middle finger. He stopped, frowning after her as she hurried away from him. He took a deep breath, clenching his hand into a fist which only made the humming worse, stronger.

"Well, this is new," Sam continued, his voice bland and Dean felt something inside him snap.

"Sam," Dean started, his voice falsely calm, "I really need you to get a little urgent here, buddy, okay? I am _stuck_. Stuck!"

"Dean-"

"And I can't even tell how goddamn much I..." Dean paused, rubbing his face so roughly he felt like he'd left a hand indent on his cheek. "How much I just want to go up to her room again and..." His voice trailed off in a strangle of noise, not able to tell Sam exactly what he was thinking about doing to her when he went back up there, all of it including no clothes, a lot of oil, some spanking, some feathers... No, not when. If. And not even if, he was not going back up there. No matter how good it sounded, how right, how goddamn delicious and sexy and warm and... He growled loudly.

"And..." Sam continued before his voice colored with accusation, "Did you sleep with her, Dean?"

"What?" Dean felt his face get hot. Not technically. "No, god! What the hell, dude?"

"You do remember that she was bleeding to death, right?"

"Sam-"

"You kept babbling about healing but she wasn't healing and you insisted I go start researching which I did and have been doing and now, magically, it's not a big deal anymore meaning you're not telling me something - again."

"She healed. She's fine. Now let's just freaking move on, shall we?"

"Uh, no-"

"A little more urgent shit is happening here-"

"Wow, really, I guess I didn't notice, Dean. You know, I'm the one who's been awake for the last eighteen hours trying to figure out what is going on with you, what is going on with her, figuring out that you _dated _a Slayer and now you're _married_ to one!" Dean held the phone away from his ear, closing his eyes as Sam continued, "That you are now cursed and probably tied to her in some weird way that we can't freaking figure out and oh, yeah, a devil's trap makes her weak, very well probably killing her which is exactly what is in dad's journal but I'm pretty sure you already knew that." Dean opened his mouth to continue but Sam was on fire, "And oh, on top of all that, I'm having more nightmares about crap in California, probably something demon-related and we gotta go check _that _out now and-"

"Okay, enough, I get it," Dean cut him off.

"No, Dean, not enough!" Sam snapped on the other end and Dean stopped his pacing, pulling the phone away from his ear again. "I haven't slept, I've been trying to figure this crap out and you are seriously holding back on me, man, not even telling me that you _knew _a Slayer. And then add all her crap onto the pile and now you're sleeping with her again? A freaking Slayer?"

Dean couldn't help himself. "Ah jeez, Sammy, are we breaking up?" he asked sarcastically and he was met with a loud exhale of breathe on the other side of the line and Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. You know now, what more do you want?"

"I want my brother to not lie to me."

"Well, gee, guess you know how I feel then," Dean snapped without thinking. He immediately regretted it as he closed his eyes. There was complete silence on the other side and Dean started, "Sam-"

"No, drop it, whatever. I guess I deserved that, huh?"

"I didn't say that-"

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to. If you remember, Dean, you were the one who lied to me about dad." His voice was full of acid. "Remember that?"

"Sam, I already told-"

"Whatever. Forget it." Sam snapped and Dean rolled his eyes, imagining for a split second his brother standing in front of him and he made a little strangling motion with his left hand, gritting his teeth in frustration. It always came back to that bastard yellowed-eyed demon. That son of a bitch who was gunning for his brother, making shit even weirder for him than it should, weirder between them and then all this Vegas crap.

This was the last goddamn time he was coming to this fucking town.

Letting out a long breath, Dean rubbed his fingers into his eyes, forcing his shoulders to relax. To calm down. Small steps, baby steps. Talking to Sam, that was good. Getting more beer, that was even better.

"Can we please can the sass, Sammy," he said tiredly. "Just please get me out of here."

"Well, where's your _wife_?"

"Don't say that!" Dean replied, making his way back towards the bar where he saw his beer had already been cleared away. "It's not..." He glowered even more as he gave up on his lackluster argument. "She's upstairs. And I'm not going back up there."

"It might be helpful to know if she can go outside or not."

"No."

"Dean."

"Just come get me, Sam."

"Alright, fine," Sam replied and Dean heard rustling on the other end as he sat back down at the bar, the bartender having conveniently disappeared again. He rubbed his eyes, bracing himself on his elbows. He couldn't even think about the whirlwind of crap without wanting to turn around and throw his phone across the room. The demons, the dreams, the girl, the sex, the need, the desire... "Although I don't know what having me there will do."

"Just..." Dean sighed, staring at the wall of liquor before him, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit him as the situation continued to gain weight in his mind. He just wanted something normal, something concrete. He wanted Sam here, he wanted to call Bobby, he wanted to sit in his damn Impala and blast some fucking Sabbath or something, anything to clear his head. "Please, Sammy, just get here."

"Fine. I'm on my way."

"Dandy," Dean said, snapping the phone shut and dropping it loudly on the bar.

The bartender magically appeared. "Rough morning, bud?"

"Oh... you have no idea," Dean replied with a lackluster smile. "Another beer, please."

"Yep," he said from behind the counter, the beer already open and ready. He plopped it down in front of Dean before heading off again. Dean took a long pull from it, the bitter liquid tasting so amazing he drained it all in one gulp. With a loud sigh, he dropped the bottle back on the bar before rubbing his eyes painfully. The ring on his finger suddenly made itself known all over again, a low, light buzz underneath his skin and Dean almost rationalized pulling out one of his knives and just slicing the motherfucker off.

At least then he could get some peace. At least then his skin wouldn't feel like it was trying to make him crawl upstairs...

Instead, he sneered at it, his face getting tighter with anger. He knew what was happening, he saw the signs. At least rationally he knew what was happening. The curse. He didn't feel any of this crap when he was anywhere near Buffy. When he was even in the same room as her, it was just another 'oops, got married on accident! Let's go break this curse, team!' sort of deal but this... being away from her... it was like it was linked directly to his desire for that damn woman and all it did was pump more lusty, sexy thoughts into it, making it turn into this gigantic, red monster of...

Lime Green was back. "Hey there, handsome. Saw you couldn't keep away."

Dean glanced at her out the corner of his eye, smirking, welcoming the distraction as he forced himself to focus on her, ignoring his humming skin. "It appears that way."

She slid against the bar and Dean allowed himself to take her every inch in. She was a damn hot woman, no doubt about that. But he didn't want her. He appreciated the fact that she was a Sex on Legs play doll with long, brown hair, glossy lips, perky little breasts completely and totally outlined by what nobody in their right mind would call a shirt with some lovely chocolate eyes... but all he saw was hazel. All he wanted to do was run his fingers through long, blonde hair, he wanted to feel her little tan body all against his, her hands on him, her teeth unbuttoning his jeans...

Dean swallowed roughly, forcing himself to smile. Lime Green would be a wonderful damn distraction if he was ever presented with one. She grinned back and he signaled to the bartender.

"Whatever the lady's having, on me."

* * *

Sam pulled the Impala into the parking garage by the hotel, slipping it into park. He glanced at the parking ticket that said in big bold font "$10/hr or $25/day" before tossing it to sit on the dashboard, shaking his head. His eyelids felt like little bits of lead were sitting on them as he braced his hands on the steering wheel, pushing his shoulders back to stretch them.

Flashes of his dream came back to him and he let his head fall back, his body instantly relaxing his tense body. He was exhausted after falling asleep at the table only to wake a few minutes later with bright blue eyes emblazoned in his brain.

He couldn't get the vision out of his head, the sight he had seen in his sleep... it had been a long time since he had had to worry about seeing anything since the visions started coming with a whole bunch more force, more pain and more vividness during the day. The last time he had dreamt about someone in his dreams... well, it had been a while.

And it was unnerving him.

Sam shook his head, rubbing his eyes hard enough to see white spots as his brain mixed with images of Dean, of this girl Buffy, of Faith knocking him a healthy right hook, of what the hell was happening with the devil's trap, dad's journal and its "Slayers Are Evil" theme he had never bothered to notice before, of the questions that needed answers, of the girl in his dreams...

The girl with the frightened blue eyes - eyes so shockingly bright in the dark where he had seen her - the long, curly hair, the falling, the tumbling before slapping into a cold, hard floor. The demons surrounding her underground...

Sam couldn't put his finger on where the place could possibly be, of where she was falling but he had seen a flash of something, a clue, a sign... actually, the sign had fallen into some sort of crater and was lying at an awkward angle, upside down. But he had been able to read it... "Welcome to Sunnydale!"

Sunnydale, California aka the town that was no longer a town.

Getting out of the car, Sam locked it, pocketing the keys as he headed out towards the hotel, walking out into the bright morning light of a new day. Dad had had more information about that place as well, a bunch of theories like there was some sort of supernatural vortex or something that called all sorts of evil things. He had even had a theory that consisted of corporeal demons.

Corporeal freaking demons.

Add on to that the worry that the dream was Yellow Eyes related, as all of his dreams and visions had chance to be, and that Dean was canoodling with Slayers, marrying them on the side for the fun of it, and now some random hole in the ground?

It was getting a little south of weird around here. None of it was helped by the fun revelations that Dean kept dropping on him. At first, the situation had been kind of funny. Dean was married; it was like a bad sitcom joke. And then the ring couldn't come off, demons were carving devil's traps into the mystery woman's skin, she and her buddy were Slayers - something Dean had known all along. Talk about a damn hypocritical jackass...

Sam shook his thoughts from his head, fighting back a yawn as he entered the falsely bright lobby. And the cherry on top of the stupidest situation ever? Dean was cursed. Or the ring was cursed which meant this girl Buffy was cursed which meant Dean was magically tethered to a Slayer. Apparently so cursed he couldn't even leave the hotel.

As Sam made his way towards the bar, he saw all the stools were empty.

* * *

It was... fading.

Buffy cocked her head farther, angling her head as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes glued to the scar - Angel's scar - on her neck. She touched it again, unable to believe her eyes.

It was no longer raised.

Buffy felt a deep pull in the pit of her stomach as she ran her fingers over her neck. In the space of a few hours, it had somehow become nothing more than a glint of light on her skin in the rough form of a vampire bite, completely smooth. She remembered vividly - she always did - the moment when she had forced Angel to bite her, mark her, to save his life... her explanation of a "puppy bite" to Parker… Spike's ridiculous comments every single time he saw her neck after she had started sleeping with him, always bitching about peaches or something...

Now? She didn't feel anything but mild surprise as she ran her fingers over the disappearing scar.

Buffy frowned. That wasn't right. That was literally the only scar on her body and all of a sudden, it was vanishing, like the scar was melting back into her skin...

Meeting her own eyes, Buffy swallowed roughly before opening the towel she had wrapped tight around her chest to stare at the healing wound on her stomach. Instead of the darkened pink it had been turning into, it now looked redder, more agitated. Buffy shook her head in wonder as she ran a finger over the lines, feeling them rise slightly against her fingertips. Like an actual scar, like she hadn't just seen it healing...

What the hell was going on with her?

Her eyes caught her wedding band, simple gold, staring back at her and she raised her hand to stare at it. Letting the towel drop to the floor, the scars forgotten, Buffy massaged her left hand, feeling slightly tingles in reaction to the rough pressure, like there was a button underneath her skin that reacted whenever she moved: The Dean Button.

Biting her tongue, Buffy stared at herself again before her eyes switched to the fading scar on her neck, the weird wound on her stomach that should have been well gone by now... Cocking her head, Buffy studied the rest of her body, feeling a chill when her wet hair touched her heated skin. She was still flushed from the hot water of the long shower and she felt goose bumps rising.

The goose bumps rippled across her skin and caused her nipples to harden a little. Buffy licked her bottom lip as she stared at them, her body warming as she remembered just a short time ago Dean's tongue and teeth tugging at her...

Someone knocked at the front door.

Buffy jumped, her eyebrows flying up as she swept down to grab the towel, making her way towards the door as she wrapped the towel clumsily, ignoring the way her body started throbbing slightly as her mind raced ahead without her permission to Dean's hands on her body…rubbing herself against him, the rush of wetness between her legs as his fingers slipped inside her pants...

"Okay, brain, let's take a chill lozenge," she whispered to herself as she reached the door, fully prepared to see the strong disapproving look Giles likely had prepared for her...

Instead Dean stood on the other side, his hand hovering to knock again, his eyes already dark with heated lust as they immediately took in her half naked state. A rush of air left her as her fingers squeezed the doorknob.

"Dean...?"

He stepped in, his hands on her waist, her arms around his neck, his lips on hers as he impatiently picked her up and pushed her back into the room at the same time, letting the door close gently behind them.

* * *

Rupert Giles pressed the call button for the elevator, glancing up at the numbers above the doors as one started moving back down towards the lobby. He glanced around, the sounds of the slot machines and people talking and coins colliding against other coins grating on his thoughts.

He hadn't been able to get rid of the tension headache that had settled right in the center of his forehead since he had talked to Faith early yesterday afternoon. Since he had heard that not only were they unsuccessful in locating the new Slayer but that they had gotten sidetracked... and Buffy had gone and gotten herself married.

And then the phone call following from a frantic Faith describing Buffy's inability to heal, that demons had cut some sort of symbol into Buffy's stomach that she kept calling a "devil's trap" before rambling on about some "tree trunk" and some "jerk" before telling Giles he had to get there. Quick.

"Dear lord," he whispered to himself, shaking his head in exasperation for the hundredth time since he had heard the shocking news. His Slayer had gotten married. In Las Vegas. She had eloped to some strange man in Las Vegas... or, rather, not a strange man but some old flame who had tickled her nether feathers as Faith had described to him before he asked her to please stop and please never repeat that to him ever again.

Little had he known that a simple reconnaissance mission would turn into the trip from hell. Demons possessing human bodies, demons carving strange symbols into Buffy's skin that weren't allowing her to heal... marriage. Cursed marriage, nonetheless although that part hadn't really been explained too well since Buffy had refused to talk to him.

None of this helped that Willow was in-between planes at the moment. She had received the message but would be a little late to the "party o' fun" for at least another day until she managed to pull herself back to the world completely. Which meant Giles was left to handle this on his own.

Bloody brilliant.

The elevator dinged and Giles let out a sigh of relief, stepping in and pressing the eleventh floor. He glanced up at the last minute and saw a strangely tall lad heading his way before the doors slipped closed. The car raised quickly, the doors popping open and he stepped into the plush hallway, glancing around with slight disapproval before heading towards Faith's room.

He was sure he hadn't approved this high of a charge for the girls on this trip...

"I never thought I'd say this," Faith said as she opened the door, "But I am happy as balls to see you here, G."

"Uh, well..." Giles said, blinking rapidly. "I'm glad to hear that. I think. Uh, where's Buffy?"

Faith was already slipping on her leather jacket, stepping out to join him in the hallway. She gestured at the door diagonally from hers. "There. She wasn't answering a second ago but I got a key. She was showering."

"Oh, good," Giles replied. "I'm glad at least one of you learned from that terribly fun fiasco last time."

Faith smirked at the memory. "Fun times. But I gotta tell you, I'm never, ever going anywhere with her. Ever. Again. Every single time, it's like Drama City. And this time it's gotta be multiplied by at _least_ a thousand."

"Yes, well, I would say even that's a bit of an understatement," Giles said as Faith slipped her card key into Buffy's door.

They both paused when they heard the harried breathing and a soft moan as the door slid open.

* * *

Sam stared at the rising numbers in the elevator as it rose to the eleventh floor. He was pretty sure Buffy was in room 1120 or something like that. He had spent a good twenty minutes scouring the entire lobby and bar and casino area before giving up and realizing that Dean had probably taken his horny stupid self up to her room. Again.

And he didn't really know if it really was the curse talking or if Dean was just being himself. Considering all the strange oozing onto everything as of late, he was willing to believe it was the curse. His brother wouldn't beg him to come save him and then just abandon him.

He also knew he wouldn't just up and leave knowing about Sam's dream either despite the brotherly spat that seemed to be happening more and more often.

So... curse. Problem. Huge problem. Once he found Dean, got Dean out of the hotel and safely back at their spectacularly crappy motel, it was time to call Bobby again.

Sam stepped off the elevator, his brow furrowed when he saw the older man with the glasses from the elevator, wrapped in an elegant tweed jacket, standing next to the dark woman whose fist had met his eye before what he assumed was Buffy's room. He started walking towards them slowly, unsure if he should just head back downstairs and call Dean and wait for him, when he saw her slip a key into the lock and open the door.

And then Sam paused when they both stopped and suddenly a loud shriek reached him down the hallway.

"Oh my god, Giles!"


End file.
